If I Can Leave Off Burying The White
by WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: "Another dance, another way, another chance, another day." Starts about a month after 7.10, and about two weeks after the finale. Rated T for violence, emotional and physical distress, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**So. I started planning this out a few weeks ago when I caught wind of all the evidence that suggested that Vega was going to die in 7.10. After the episode last night (after I threw up and then cried for three hours straight no exaggeration) I started working hard at it because now I know exactly what happens and how.**

**I'm aware that the last three eps may negate a lot of this, i.e. if Jane and Lisbon leave the FBI obviously they wouldn't be here, but I'm just going to take this forward from 7.10. It takes place a good while later, though, more than a month.**

* * *

His back pressed against the wall, Wylie scooted down the hallway. The bug was in place, the computers were manipulated; all he had to do was, as Jane put it, "get the Hell out of there." The safe exit was only about ten yards away, but it seemed as if Wylie had miles to go before he was free. Usually it was Jane, Lisbon, Cho who did these sorts of things, especially when it was a situation like this, where they were not even permitted entrance to the building. Jane was in his ear, he had talked him through it, but Wylie was wild eyed, disbelieving that he had actually broken into a top secret hospital in the middle of nowhere, with a security system that people dreamed of designing.

Shadows appeared, signaling trouble just around the corner. The exit sign was glowing in front of him, but he wouldn't get there without being seen. Wylie ducked into a side hallway, taking advantage of the boxes stacked up along the side, slipping behind them so he was completely invisible to anyone in the main hallway.

Though perhaps not to anyone inside the rooms on this side of the boxes. There were two of them, one was next to him, just on his left, and the other across from him. Both had solid doors, both had windows with horizontal blinds. The blinds across from him were shut tight, so no one would see him there.

The headset buzzed. _Wylie? Wylie, where are you? Is something the matter?_

Wylie leaned around the door on his left, peering into the gaps left by the blinds. He didn't see movement, but the lights _were _on, so..._what is this hallway doing here? _He suddenly thought. _I studied the blueprints all night long. This hallway doesn't exist._

Wylie knew that he should be prepared to leave as soon as the shadows passed, but the fact that the blue prints were not complete changed things. There might be more going on than they'd suspected, and he didn't know if they would be able to get back into the building. He had to investigate, he told himself as he peered into the room. It appeared to be another hospital room – it was at least set up as such. There was an I.V. set up, a counter, a small couch, various equipment that he couldn't even begin to identify, and a bed with someone in it. Why were there more rooms in this tiny hallway? What was going on? Could it have something to do with the cover up?

_Wylie_. It was a female now. _Wylie, it's Lisbon. Are you alright? Do you need assistance? _

Wylie heard the people who had spooked him into the side hallway pass by, their footsteps remaining even, giving no indication they were suspicious of anything. _I'm fine, _he whispered into the headset. _I found rooms not on the blueprint. I'm investigating._

_Be careful, Wylie, _Lisbon said. _You've done your part. We can get trained agents..._

_"No, I got it." _Wylie glanced behind him and then reached out, slowly lifting one of the blinds with his thumb to get a better look at the room. There was a _lot _of equipment, and a thick metal bar running at waist level all around the room. There was a small window to the outside, which led to a courtyard - providing the blueprints were accurate in that respect. There were plants - Wylie didn't know what kind, but they weren't of any known medical use, and they weren't native to Texas - probably decoration. His eyes wandered to the bed. The figure was small, covered with a white blanket up to the chest. Wylie frowned, something about the situation confusing him, something seeming out of place even for a secret hallway in a secret facility.

Then he was running, getting the hell out of there as Jane had instructed, down the main hallway, out the door, around the back side of the building, into the back of the next truck out. He looked wildly around, spotting a waste disposal bin against one of the walls. He barely got the lid off before the nausea overwhelmed him.

* * *

**Let me know what you think - I promise I'll be getting answers to you guys. But they won't be coming quickly - this is a top secret facility that is very need to know, and exactly what it does won't be revealed until later chapters. The fic is being written in multiple POVs, but most of them are not POVs that the executives at this facility feel "need to know," so we'll have to learn along with them.**

**And yes - I am going to be taking medical liberties here. A lot of them. But I'm basing all of them off of things that have been done in real life, or have been done on other shows. I promise no matter how ridiculous anything I claim here seems, I am basing it off of _something_.**


	2. Chapter 2

**New update! I'm going to try and update frequently, just in case this fic is helping people get through this like writing it is helping me. **

* * *

"The truck is late," Cho noted.

"He was late getting out. The truck being late increases his chances of being on it." Lisbon looked over at the car. "Jane! Anything?"

"We lost the signal," Jane said said from the driver's seat. "But he made it on the truck."

"How do you know?"

"I heard him climb up into it just before we lost touch," Jane said. "They won't find him. It's an airtight plan, I told you."

"I'm still not entirely comfortable with sending him in there," Cho said. "He's been too bold lately. Taking too many risks."

"He was the best person for the job, boss," Lisbon said. "And we were with him the whole time."

Cho gave a short nod. "There's the truck. Places."

Lisbon shrugged off her jacket, revealing a custodial uniform. Cho put on a jacket that matched. "Jane, keep an eye on the monitors."

The agents crept around the secondary building to the docks, taking protective masks off the walls and slipping them on. No one could possibly recognize them as imposters. They stood at the ready as the truck carrying Wylie backed up to the dock.

"You ladies can take it from here?" the driver said, hopping out. "I'm late for my break. Promised I'd call the husband."

"Go ahead Mr. Davis," Lisbon said. "We've got it covered.

They meandered around the truck casually until the driver had disappeared, then, moving quickly, they opened up the back. Wylie, looking dazed, came tumbling out the back. Grabbing him by the arms, Lisbon and Cho dragged him into the janitorial closet, where his own uniform was waiting for him. Then, racing back out onto the docks, Cho and Lisbon unloaded the materials and placed the already filled out inventory sheet on top, complete with the initials of the workers that were sleeping peacefully in a side room.

"You ready to go, Wylie?" Lisbon asked, knocking on the door of the closet.

Wylie appeared, looking pale even for him, but fully clothed. "Let's go."

Pulling down their masks again, the three agents walked through the main part of the warehouse, nodding at other workers as they passed them. Upon passing the primary exits, they shed their janitorial clothing – leaving Lisbon in her jeans and bra, she hadn't thought this through fully – and darted outside, around the building, and then raced across the terrain back to the car, where Jane waited.

"Mission accomplished!" Lisbon said triumphantly.

"Wylie, my man!" Jane said, exiting the car and offering the younger man a high five. "You were great!"

Wylie gave a shaky smile. "Thanks."

"Cho?" Jane held his hand up in front of the senior agent.

Cho didn't even blink. "No. Alright, let's get out of here. Lisbon, you're driving."

"Yes boss." Lisbon looked sideways at Wylie. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, too wild eyed to be fully convincing. "Just...my first totally top secret break in, the adrenaline is still kinda...pumping."

"You sure?" Lisbon said. "You look..."

"Look, I'm fine," Wylie said. "Just a little shaken. It's all good. He tried to open the back door of the car, and found it locked. "Uh, Jane?"

"Right, sorry." Jane fished the remote from his pocket and pressed the unlock button, then passed the keys off to Lisbon. "Let's go."

"Hey you you mind if I sit up front?" Wylie asked. "I'm feeling a bit queasy."

"Go for it," Cho said, leaving the passenger door open for the younger agent as he moved to go into the back seat.

Lisbon watched Wylie through her peripheral vision as they drove back to Austin. Although when Cho had asked he said it seemed to be a run of the mill hospital, seemingly specializing in severe dehydration and sunstroke in military patients based on the rooms he saw in the main ward, something had rattled Wylie. She supposed it could just be the fact that he had almost been caught on the way out – or maybe seeing sick patients being cared for and getting better upset him. Either way, there was something he wasn't telling them...but Lisbon was glad that Cho did'nt seem interested in pressing him for details at the present moment. Wylie knew what was relevant to their investigation, if something had upset him that pertained to it, they would know about it. If he was still struggling personally, them pressuring him to talk about it so soon after the experience could make things worse. Lisbon reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly before focusing back on the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**New update time! Hope you enjoy it – anyone who hasn't figured out what spooked Wylie, you'll get your answer here.**

* * *

Like a dog with a stick, Wylie held a pen in his mouth as he watched the incoming data stream across his screen. So far, nothing seemed to be in code, but Wylie was beginning to believe it might be, as he had not yet been able to report on Lisbon's instructions to "see if anything pops." So far, the Feldman Warehouse and Treatment Center appeared to be a perfectly normal – though high security – facility.

But it was entirely possible that he was so rattled from the day's events that he wasn't concentrating hard enough.

Wylie had purposely not gone to the hospital with Jane and Lisbon. Cho's cell phone was cutting in and out and they hadn't been able to verify if he said she was in recovery or if she had been heading there when something else happened. Wylie was in the middle of wondering why they hadn't found out sooner that anything had happened, when Lisbon grabbed his arm and asked if he was coming with them. He said no – If she could handle visitors today, she could handle visitors later, and if Cho's call had been that something had gone too wrong, he didn't want to see her like that. He'd wanted to remember her as the smiley girl who laughed at his jokes and who had texted him from the car that morning that she had some great trash talk in store for his friends.

Maybe that was why he was so sure that the woman lying in the hospital bed in the FWTC was her, even though he knew it was impossible. He'd never seen her body – but his thoughts and dreams were consumed by it. Lisbon had assured him that she looked peaceful, as if she was sleeping, the blankets all tucked around her and her hair let down That was how the woman in the bed looked – of course his mind went there.

And yet he'd passed at least a dozen hospital rooms during his operation, and at least half of them had female patients, almost all of whom were dark haired. None of them had sent that chill down his spine. None of their presences seemed impossible.

A bad taste had crept into his mouth. Wylie spit out the pen – he'd bitten right into the ink tube. He dropped the pen onto the trash and stuck out his tongue, wanting to be rid of the taste. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and got up, heading for the bathroom.

Wylie entered, jumping at the sight of Cho washing his hands. Cho raised an eyebrow. "You forget this restroom's for the whole floor Agent Wylie."

"No, no sir," Wylie said, bending over the sink with cupped hands. Water filled them, and he drew it into his mouth, swishing and spitting. Cho raised an eyebrow at the swirly blue ink that was mixed with the water that ran down into the drain.

"Wylie," Cho said. "Is there anything we can do? You've been acting strange. If something upset you in there, there's counseling, or..."

"No," Wylie said. "I'm okay, I just...I was almost caught. It rattled me. It's nothing, I swear."

Cho gave a nod. "Alright." He walked toward the door. "Try not to poison yourself with the writing utensils."

* * *

As the work day neared its end, Wylie hesitantly tapped on the door to Cho's office.

"Come in, Wylie. You find anything on the feed?"

"No. Maybe Jane could check it out?"

"I'll put him on it tomorrow."

Wylie walked over to Cho's desk, hesitating. "You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier," he said. "I...I have some leave."

Cho didn't blink. "Okay."

"I don't know...maybe just a few days."

"Take all the time you need. If you're not one hundred percent it negatively impacts the team."

Wylie looked down at the floor.

"That's not an insult," Cho said. "You recognize you're not one hundred percent and you're taking care of yourself. It's admirable. Keep me posted on how you're doing."

Wylie gave a quick nod. "Sure, absolutely, thank you."

He walked quickly back down the hall to gather his stuff, running into Lisbon at the elevator. "You alright?" she asked him in that quiet, motherly way of hers.

"I will be," he said. "Just need to clear my mind, that's all."

"You don't hesitate to ask if you need anything from me. Kay?" She gave him that sweet, caring smile.

Wylie nodded. "I appreciate it, Agent Lisbon. I really do."

He said goodbye to her at the front doors and headed toward his car, finding himself walking faster the farther he got from the building. He couldn't get the image out of his head – but that wasn't why he'd asked Cho for time off.

He had to go back to the FWTC. He had to creep back down the unmapped hallway and look into that room adjacent to the boxes. He had to stare through the window at the woman in the bed and prove to himself that it was a stranger. Otherwise he would go crazy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Getting another update done today because I am very busy tomorrow - huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! (And thanks to Roxanne for making me publish this before I go to bed.)**

* * *

It was easy enough getting back into the building – the hard part was stowing away on the truck, but the team had been observing the matters of the staff for weeks and Wylie only had one close call as he closed himself in. When the truck reached the FWTC, he went the same way he'd entered the building from the previous day, slipping with ease down the same hallways until he found the secret one. Ducking behind the boxes when a woman left the room he was headed toward and went into the other one, the one with the drawn blinds, Wylie waited until the coast was clear and then crept up to the door of the room where he swore he'd seen her. He pushed it quietly open and slipped inside.

His legs were shaking as turned to regard the woman in the bed. Now that there was nothing but air between him and the woman in the bed, he knew it was her. The face was pale and the form of her body under the blanket seemed so much smaller than he remembered. But it was her. Somehow. Somehow it was her.

Wylie took a step forward, drawing the door shut behind him, then realized he was uncertain about what to do.

He stepped into the room. There was a filing cabinet next to the door. Quietly, the woman still unmoving on the bed, he opened the top door, drawing out the sole file inside. He flipped the file open and the information at the top drained the color from his face.

_Vega, Michelle_

_Transfer Austin 02.04.15._

_Severe GSW, abdomen_

_Primary surgeon: U. Westing_

Wylie's head shot up, staring over at the bed again. He was shaking, yes, he was pale, yes, but all the common sense in the world was telling him this was some sort of misdirect. He must be crazy. He should have gone to see her in the hospital room. Maybe then he could have accepted that she was gone and move on, not practically hallucinating her in a top secret medical facility.

But that was her. Wylie's brain was winning the battle over his logic. He knew what she looked like, and that woman in the bed was her.

_Make sure she's actually alive._

It seemed like such a bizarre thought, but...this was someone whose funeral Wylie had attended. He'd shoveled dirt onto her coffin. He had multiple colleagues that had seen her body in the hospital. He'd seen her blood on Cho's shirt.

And yet somehow, she was here – or her body was anyway – in this tiny, out of the way hospital room in this quiet little hallway that didn't appear on any maps, in this hospital that had been begging the question _what is it you do here?_

He stepped closer, still hesitant, so many feelings swirling around inside of him, the most prominent being cautious uncertainty. _There has to be more than this. She can't just be here, alive. I went to her funeral. Cho handed her relatives the flag. I heard the dirt thud against her coffin. Maybe someone stole her body? What sort of a sick bastard would do that?_

Then something he had not heard upon entering the room – a monitor set up behind the hospital bed, connected to the woman laying on it, was giving off slow, steady beeping sounds.

And she had a heartbeat.

And, as there was no respirator over her nose and mouth, she was breathing on her own.

_What sort of a game is this?_

Wylie was standing over the bed now, staring down at her. This was her. Somehow. His hands were shaking, something was still telling him not to believe it, but _this was her._ And he could see her, slowly but surely, moving as she breathed.

His mouth was dry, and when he spoke it only came out in a whisper, the volume accurately representing his level of confidence in the question. "_Michelle?_"

And then her eyes opened. Wylie nearly jumped backward, he hadn't really expected her to respond. And then she responded in a different way – as he backed up, startled, unsure, her eyes followed him. Her head tipped in his direction. Then her own mouth opened, just slightly, but her voice sounded more like her than his own had done him justice moments ago despite her clear disbelief. "Wylie?"

He lost it, staggering backward a step, tears running down his cheeks. His face contorted and he found it impossible to breathe through his nose. "M...M-M..."

_It was her._

When he finally managed to formulate a word it wasn't the one he'd been trying to say. "_How?_"

"Wylie," she said, awkwardly shifting her weight so she was more upright. "Wylie, Wylie Wylie!" her voice was quiet but frantic. "Wylie. Calm down, they'll hear you!"

His eyes strayed toward the door and then shot back to the bed. "_What_?"

"Wylie, if they hear you they'll take you away!" She reached out her hand. "Come here, come here!"

He knew he was walking because the space between him and the bed was getting smaller. His hand came out in front of him, shaking, only stabilizing when her hand closed around his fingers, preventing the motion.

"Wylie, listen to me," she said.

"You're...you're..." Wylie sucked in a deep breath. "You're alive."

"Yes," she said. "But no one can know. You have to keep this quiet, Wylie. This place doesn't exist. Not to the world."

"What _is_ this place?" Wylie asked, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. "And who are 'they' that will take me away? _I don't understand what's happening here._"

"Well I'm assuming that you weren't given a visitor pass," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but..."

"They don't let people in here. It's top secret. If they find you in here they will make you leave and they will make for certain that you won't come back. Or tell anyone."

Wylie put his other hand over hers. It was shaking as much as the other one. He had so many questions. "But how did..."

"How doesn't matter, okay?" she said, adding her free hand to their pile. "Can it just not matter, Wylie?"

Wylie wanted to agree with her, but "Vega, I...I went to your funeral. I _helped bury you._"

"I know," she said.

"You know?"

"I mean, I assumed." She coughed. "Listen to me. There's..."

"Hey! _You_!"

Both of them jumped, turning wild-eyed to face the two men standing in the now open door, guns drawn, pointed at Wylie. "Step _away_, sir," the taller one commanded.

"I..." Wylie's hands shot up above his head. "_What the Hell is going on here_?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Easily the longest chapter so far, but we're starting to get into the meat of the story! Thanks for everyone's reviews so far!**

* * *

"_What is going on here?"_

"You don't ask the questions!" the shorter man snapped, his gun jerking to point from where Wylie had been standing to where he was now.

Vega tipped her head back. "Oh, trauma flashback," she mumbled.

"Agent, has he harmed you?"

"Are you all right? You look alarmed," the other one noted.

"Of course I'm alarmed, you've got guns trained on my friend!"

"How did he get in here?"

"Well _I_ didn't let him in!" Vega said. "Look at him, does he look the least bit threatening to either of you?"

"He's not one of ours." The shorter one said, then addressed Wylie again. "Sir. STEP AWAY. FROM THE BED."

"Okay, okay!" Wylie said, darting to the other side of the room. If there were going to be bullets, they were not going to be in her direction.

"Can we put the guns away?" Vega said. "I don't know if you've heard, but those things can cause some pretty serious injuries."

Wylie and the two armed men turned slowly in unison to stare at her.

She shrugged. "You get locked up in this place for over a month and you develop a weird sense of humor."

"Michelle, are you saying that you know this guy?" The taller man said.

"You know _these people_?" Wylie asked, sounding as surprised at the man's use of her first name as he seemed to be at her insistence that the strange man in her room wasn't causing any alarm.

"He's about as capable of hurting me as I am of hurting him," Vega said.

The men lowered their guns. "Agent, what is he doing here?"

"I don't know," Vega said. "But he's here now, can he stay? At least for a minute."

"You know that that's not..."

"Must I remind you of the history of this facility?"

Vega spoke with the assurance of someone who had the upper hand. Wylie was getting more and more confused by the moment.

"We'll be outside your door," said the taller man after exchanging a glance with his fellow guard. "If you need anything, just shout."

"What the Hell is going on?" Wylie asked when they were alone again.

"Wylie, I know this is a big shock. It was for me too." Vega shifted her weight. "Can you help me sit up?"

Wylie took her by the upper arms and helped her change positions, her legs now hanging off the side of the bed. "Thanks." She touched next to her. "Sit?"

"Okay." He wanted to smile – _she's alive! _– but he was too confused. "I have so many questions."

"I have one," she said, "how did you get here?"

"Cho has us investigating the goings on at this place," Wylie said. "Clearly it's a lot more complicated than we thought." He shook his head. "I...Vega, I can't just magically lose all curiosity."

"I'm here because of my father."

"Your father."

"Some of his friends in the military had a focus on trauma research," she said. "Some soldiers volunteered to be experimented on if they had an injury that couldn't be helped with traditional "modern medicine." Places like this have the most advanced medical information and experience known to man."

"So there's human research going on here?" Wylie cocked his head. "Isn't that not technically legal?"

"Everyone involved is military, past or present. We sign a good dozen forms that allow them to test theories on us, should we ever be involved in a catastrophic event. Many of their ideas don't pan out, and the patient dies, but they've gotten very good at slowing down the spread of infection, speeding up the creation of natural antibodies, things like that." Vega sighed. "They couldn't save my father. Liver cancer wasn't something anyone here was working on. But he knew about it. His first commanding officer was a founder. So naturally, I signed up. When word got out that I'd been shot in the line of duty and was en route to a hospital, a team met up there and took over my case. The hospital was informed that they needed to allow them to handle my case due to a matter of national security."

"Can't they get in a lot of trouble for making that up? I mean, I'd assume that..."

"They consider places like this relevant to national security," she said, "as these facilities can help keep us ahead of all the ways our enemies may try to kill us or infiltrate our borders, even, when people have injuries to the brain. I honestly don't even fully understand it."

"So they had to tell us that you were dead so they could work on you in secret."

She nodded. "I've been here since the afternoon I was shot."

"Morning," Wylie said before he could stop himself.

"Right," she said, shaking her head. "Morning. I've had six surgeries."

"Oh my God," Wylie said. "_Six_?"

"Yeah. The initial, emergency bit was done at the hospital where the ambulance took me, then I was brought here. They had to stop bleeding, fix my stomach, remove my pancreas..."

"You can live without a pancreas?" Wylie shook his head. "Sorry, not the most important thing here."

"I'll need insulin and digestive enzymes administered daily for the rest of my life," Vega said, "but yeah, I can. Then there was an issue with infection – they thought they'd flushed everything out of my bloodstream, but a couple days after I got here I guess I almost crashed again. I was on so much anesthetic I don't remember much about the first week, plus I had a minor head injury too, from hitting the floor."

"Excuse me?"

Wylie and Vega looked at the door, where a tall, black woman with glasses was standing. "Michelle, we need to have a little discussion regarding your _friend_."

"Please don't do anything to him, Angela," Vega said immediately.

"We're not going to do anything to him," Angela said. "But now that he is here, we're going to need to register him."

"Ah, I, what?"

"Register you," Angela said to Wylie, slower this time, as if he was incapable of understanding. "You know about this place, so we're going to have to give you the basic information and put you in the registrar as someone who knows. Now...how much _do_ you know?" She regarded Wylie suspiciously.

"He knows about my procedures and how I came to be here," Vega said. "I told him. And I don't mind reminding you if you're going to try and intimidate him with threats."

"We do not threaten here," Angela said. "We do feel, however, that it is fair to remind everyone involved that this facility is a matter of national security, and we do have the right and means to eliminate anyone who poses a threat to that security."

"I still don't understand how this is a matter of..."

"Wylie," Vega warned.

"So does this mean I'll get to come back and see her?" Wylie asked, taking the verbal cue to shut up that she'd thrown at him.

"In extreme situations – and this would certainly qualify as one – we do permit our patients visitors," Angela said. "When you can come depends on a variety of factors, most importantly, who else has a scheduled visit at that time. It is crucial to recovery of most victims of extreme trauma that they have someone who they trust and who cares about them by their sides to help them recover. Michelle – does..." she looked at the tablet in her hands "...Jason Wylie fit that description?"

"Yes." She nodded. "He does."

_How did she know my name?_

"Wylie," Angela said, "we know you're FBI. That means we will monitor you closely – and remember, our surveillance is good enough we were able to intercept Michelle Vega within eight minutes of her injury. I do not know how you managed to get into this place initially, and since you know things now I suppose I can't really care, but if we get any sense that you are putting the goals of this operation into the wrong hands...it will be promptly dealt with. Understood?"

Wylie's throat was dry, but he nodded quickly. What else could he say?

There were a few more questions, and a few more comments that sounded more like threats than Wylie was entirely comfortable with, and then Angela left. She turned in the doorway on her way out. "You may visit between six and eight o'clock pm any day you wish. However, you will have to leave now. You may return tomorrow."

Wylie's head was still spinning, but he nodded. "Understood." He turned to Vega. "Is it alright with you if I come tomorrow?"

"It will more than likely be the highlight of my day," she said with a laugh. "This place isn't exactly the entertainment capital of the world."

When Wylie had gone, two of her nurses came in to change the bedsheets, helping her hobble to the couch to lay down while they did so. Upon being returned to her bed, Vega lay on her back, her hands protectively resting over her stitches as they did naturally now, knowing that she was shaking but unable to do anything about it.

When she'd woken up here and they explained to her where she was, she'd known then that if she made it through the rest of whatever her recovery had in store, she'd be sent off to a new life in a new country and never be able to see the people in her old life again. That was the deal. She'd never see her tía or her work family. They would all continue to believe she was dead. And she would spend the rest of her life knowing what they'd been told and not being able to offer them any comfort or evidence to the contrary. That was the price she would pay for having a rest of her life to spend.

Not anymore. Not only had Wylie been there, and not only did Wylie know she was alive, Wylie was going to come back and visit her. She would still be surrounded by doctors and nurses and others who only viewed her as one of the patients, but now she wouldn't be alone.

Vega looked at the clock above the door. It would be just over thirty one hours before he would be back, and that thought sent an ache through her that was different than the kinds she had been feeling over the past few weeks. She supposed she should be surprised at how much she was craving Wylie's presence, but she wasn't. He was a piece of her old life come into her new one. He was someone familiar. He was the only familiar thing that had happened to her in the past thirty four days.

* * *

**I know I'm taking liberties with this fic medically, but I figure a top secret trauma research facility would have some pretty effective ways of helping people, and some books and shows I've seen have pulled some pretty questionable explanations for things out of their hats, so I figured I'd go for it too! (I mean, Vega is alive, that's the important part, right?)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yes, another update already! This fic is my therapy. (See Roxanne I can still surprise you. ;) )**

* * *

"Your stitches look good," Nurse Jamie said, sliding the gown back over Vega's stomach. "Still feeling weak?"

"A little." She shifted her weight and winced. "I keep getting that leg cramp."

"Your muscles have been working hard," Jamie said. "Even though you aren't walking a lot, after as long as you went without walking at all...once your wound closes we can get you doing water exercises. That should help considerably." He smiled down at her. "You'll get there, Michelle. It just takes time, especially with an injury as severe as yours. Most of your major organs are within inches of the bullet's path."

She nodded.

"I hear you have permissions for a visitor."

Vega nodded again. "Someone I used to work with."

"The man who accompanied you to the hospital?"

Now she shook her head. "No. Another co – worker. Agent Cho was my boss. Agent Wylie was my friend."

* * *

Wylie was glad that he'd arrived at the facility – by his own car! – twenty minutes before six, because by the time he was patted down, scanned, and the bundle of flowers he'd brought pulled apart and examined (joke was on them, really, he'd already bugged their offices), it was almost six thirty.

Wylie sighed from the chair he was made to wait in, glancing at the clock, tapping his foot.

"You are the one here to see Michelle Vega?"

He looked up. "Yes?" It came out more like a question, after all, if they found a bug of the insect form in those flowers they'd probably send him away at this point.

The woman sat down next to him. "I'm Ford, one of her nurses."

"Oh. Nice to meet you."

"It will be good for Michelle that you are visiting," Ford told him. "She hasn't said anything to us, but her medical team can tell that she's been really lonely. The employees here, we try to not be impersonal, but we are very busy. Lots of patients, lots of meetings. And nothing really compares to people that knew them before whatever their trauma was."

"I hate the word trauma," Wylie said. "I just keep thinking of what she went through."

"She's a real fighter," Ford said. "We almost lost her the day of the incident, and it was touch and go for days. She has incredible resolve. Even with our methods, four out of five people with her exact injuries would have died anyway. I don't say this to upset you," she said when Wylie looked quickly away, "but to help you encourage her. Her perseverance is extraordinary, but in the past week or so her improvement has slowed. This happens with many of our patients, they get depressed. We can medicate them, but the most effective therapy is, unfortunately, support from loved ones, which for security reasons we cannot usually provide. Many of us admire Michelle, and it thrills us that you are going to be here for her. She deserves more than what the cards have dealt her thus far."

"Jason Wylie," came a sharp voice from the desk. "You may proceed."

Wylie smiled at Ford. "Thank you." He rose and a guard – the shorter one from the previous day – handed him back his flowers and motioned to follow him with a curt hand movement. Wylie was glad he would be escorted to Vega's room. He had no idea how to get there from the front entrance.

When they reached her room, the guard grunted and pointed at the door, then turned and walked halfway down the hallway to a chair, where he took up his post. Wylie pushed the door open and smiled. "Hey."

"You're late." There was a big grin on her face.

"Sorry. They had to make sure I wasn't bringing in weapons."

"Flowers!" she exclaimed. "Wylie, give them to me."

He held the bundle out and she took it, pulling them close and inhaling deeply. "God, this is so much better than hospital smell."

She looked adorable. But Wylie didn't say anything. Vega wasn't the type to be easily flattered by compliments to her appearance. She liked being told she had done a good job. "I was talking to one of the nurses," he said. "She said that you've been impressing them with your recovery."

Vega inhaled the smell of the flowers again. "Not much to do here but get better," she said. "Maybe you shouldn't be here," she said with a laugh, "I'll be spreading myself too thin."

"I can leave if you want..." Wylie said, pretending to consider it.

"No no, sit." She patted the bed, scooting herself over and laughing. "I'll take the risk."

Once Wylie had sat down, they looked at each other for a long time, realizing that neither was really sure of what to say. Their past topics of conversation had been mostly about work...or video games...or them just trying to one up the other on whatever else they managed to talk about. It had been easy, and it had been fun, but they suddenly felt disconnected.

"How are you feeling?" Wylie finally asked.

She shrugged. "One of the things that sucks about getting better is you become aware of just how incompetent you are. I can't get to the bathroom on my own – and it's literally right there." She pointed to a door in the corner of her room, not ten feet from her bed. "It hurts to cough. And I have nothing I can do. I'm done with surgeries, so I'm awake as often as a healthy person, but there's only so much golf you can watch on the little TV up there. So you just start thinking about all the people you want to see. And you can't. And all the things you want to do. That you can't. I want to be able to be my own person again, you know?" She pulled herself into a sitting position, propped up on her elbows. "How is everyone? You know, the team."

"We're okay. I mean, trying to adjust to life without you." Wylie looked down at her. "It's different. It's been really hard."

"How is Agent Cho?"

"He's..." Wylie hesitated, and Vega looked alarmed. "He wasn't hurt too, was he?"

"No. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember where you were shot?"

"You know I do," Vega said, "but in case I'm ever feeling forgetful, I'm going to have a real nice scar on my stomach."

"No, I mean...do you remember what happened? Where you were, that sort of thing?" He realized that in his brief conversation with her the previous day, she'd been very vague about the day she was shot.

"It's hazy. We were in a diner, it smelled bad, like they used the same grease for everything. It's a blur. I remember earlier in the day...but once Cho and I get there..." She shrugged. "Some of them say its better I don't remember, but I hate...what does this have to do with Cho?" Her eyes were betraying her anxiety. "You said no one else got hurt."

"He is, he's fine," Wylie said quickly. It was too quick. Vega frowned. "Tell me."

"You guys were in a gunfight with these three men," Wylie said, standing up and walking in a small circle. "Cho found you..." he stopped and took a deep breath. It didn't matter that she was alive, this hurt. "He found you on the floor and held you until the ambulance came. You were barely conscious by that point, and since you didn't...well since we were told you didn't..." Wylie shook his head. "His reality is you died in his arms, Michelle."

She was silent for a long time. "Does he blame himself?" she finally asked, looking up at him. "Because if anyone messed up, it would have been me. I'm the rookie. I would have been..."

"No one messed up," Wylie said. "He said you were perfect."

A hint of a smile came over her face. "Really?"

"Yep."

"Perfect," Vega repeated, looking down, turning slightly pink.

Wylie nodded. "Yep."

Vega kept her head down for a long time. _Cho said I was perfect._ On one hand, she was absolutely thrilled...but hearing for the first time the details of the event that had put her here...she couldn't say it had jogged her memory, but her heart was beginning to race, and she looked back up at him, a tear leaking from her eye. Her eyes were locked with his, and though no sound came from her, the tears _were_ coming, rolling down her cheeks, her lips pressed close together. She hated showing weakness. She always had. Wylie sank down on the bed again and she leaned toward him, using her left arm to support herself as she put her right hand against the side of his neck and tucked her head under his chin. He slid his arms around her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you."

She shook her head. _No, I'm glad you did. I hated knowing that there were things that happened to me that I don't remember. At least I know._

He shifted his weight to make it easier for her to lean on him, and she let out a loud, shaky sigh. "I wish I could do something," Wylie said, rubbing her back with one hand as her fingers curled around his other one.

She pulled away – but didn't let go of his hand – and lay back, their eyes locking. She gave him a small smile. "You are, Wylie," she said as he took her other hand with his free one. "Trust me, you are."

* * *

**I am a person who cannot get blackout drunk, and am terrified of losing consciousness for whatever reason, because knowing there is a period of my life that I cannot recall would be absolutely terrifying for me. I get the sense that Vega would be the same way, needing to know about that day even if it upsets her.**

**There will be more to this story than just Wylie and Vega – there is a case in here that the FBI will need to solve!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday! I was giving a few of my friends the chance to catch up, plus I had a lot going on. (Also – was the episode tonight painful as all Hell for anyone else because I could not keep it together.)**

**This chapter will highlight some of Wylie and Vega's insecurities. I have more with the other main characters written...but I'm trying to put off anything with them until after the finale next week so I can draw as much from the post 7.10 canon as I can.**

* * *

"If it isn't our most faithful visitor," said Nurse Jaimie as Wylie checked in.

"What?"

Jaimie tucked the pen he was holding into his shirt pocket. "I think you're the only person we've ever had to come every day. Most people here don't get visitors at all…the ones that do, most of them live out of state, so even the wealthier ones can't get out here more than a couple times a month."

"I'm on leave," Wylie said. "So I have time. Either come here or sit around at my apartment, and that's boring."

"Michelle is a real fighter," Jaimie said. "We're extremely hopeful for her recovery now that she has someone who loves her to help her through it."

Thrown off guard, Wylie nodded, stammered some sort of farewell, and then continued on to Vega's room. Nurse Jaimie didn't seem to notice; he'd gotten a message on his beeper.

_Our most faithful visitor…only person to come every day…someone who loves her…_

Wylie wondered if he was doing the right thing, coming to see her every day this past week. Was he acting obsessive? Did the hospital employees laugh at him behind his back? Did _she _think he was coming too often? Wylie wondered if he was coming to visit her because seeing her made him feel good at the expense of what she really wanted.

Maybe she wanted to be let alone.

Maybe he shouldn't have come today, maybe he shouldn't come tomorrow, maybe he should come every other day…"Hey," Wylie said, his standard greeting upon reaching her door. "You're out and about!"

Vega had been standing with her back to him, facing the tiny window. "Hey," she said with a smile. "I wanted to walk around a little. Then I looked outside and got distracted," she added, turning back to the window. Wylie walked up behind her. "Not much of a view."

"No," she agreed. "But I miss outside." She turned around and looked up at him – way up, since there was only inches between them. "Can you help me?"

Wylie furrowed his brow. "Escape?"

She laughed, a strong, full laugh, and Wylie couldn't help but grin even though he was still confused. "No," she said. "_Walk_." He felt her hands slide into his own. "I'm too unsteady by myself."

"Oh. That makes more sense." Wylie laughed. He stepped back, giving her more space. "Just don't let me hit anything," he said, raising his eyebrows as she walked forward, him stepping backward to consistently support her.

She crept forward, not too unsteady at first, but within minutes Wylie realized just how bad her stamina was. He felt more weight being put on his hands, saw her expression go from pleasant to focused, saw the beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead as they moved around the room.

"You okay?" Wylie said, stopping.

She was breathing hard too – he hadn't realized that until she spoke. "It's hard," she said, and there was a waver in her voice. She'd been looking down at her feet, as if she had to visually see where they would go, but now she raised her eyes to meet his, and they were full of tears. "I can't even walk. _I can't even walk back to bed._"

"Yes you can!" he said. "You're getting there. These things take time…" he wasn't sure what else to say. Her eyes were wide, they seemed to be searching his; Wylie could see she was agitated and strongly sensed that she was appealing to him to help, to make it better, to do _something_. The look in her eyes terrified him and he wondered briefly if Cho had seen a similar one the day of the gunfight. It was startling and unnerving to see Michelle Vega so rattled, so unsure.

Wylie was still at almost arm's length from her, holding her sweaty hands, which were gripping his tightly, desperately. He moved toward her quickly and felt her wobble when their hands stopped being her support. But it didn't matter, she wasn't going to fall backward, because Wylie wrapped his arms tightly around her and bent his head to rest on hers.

"It's okay, It's okay," he repeated as she sobbed, her hands curling around the front of his shirt. "Shhhh, Michelle. It's going to be alright. Hey, hey, shhhhh." _She's so little. _"Hey, look at me." Vega did. "Let's try something. Okay? It's going to be stupid. But let's just try it."

She cocked her head.

"Turn around. There you go." Wylie held his arms out, one on either side of her. "Take my hands. Alright. Now." He pushed the toes of his shoes up against her heels. "Stand on my feet."

"What?"

"Come on." He smiled when she did, then enfolded their arms around her. "Alright. Now let's walk back to bed."

He heard a small laugh. "Wylie…"

"Just humor me." Wylie slowly walked forward, shifting the both of them slowly back across the room. When they reached the bed, he let go of her hands, and she reached out to support herself on the bed, slowly climbing back onto it and shifting her weight until she was on her back. "There. You did it!"

She smiled. "That was so weird, Wylie."

He shrugged, feeling awkward. "No I know, I just thought…"

She cocked her head, as if she was seeing him for the first time. "It…it wasn't weird in a bad way," she said. "It was…it was weird in a Wylie way."

He cleared his throat. "Ah…what does that mean? Is that good or bad?"

"It's good," she said, smiling again. "It's good."

"Okay." He was smiling now. "Do you feel better then?"

She looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I mean yes, but…"

"No, I understand." Wylie nodded. "I can't imagine dealing with everything you've gone through, and to have to build up stamina for _walking_ has to be really…"

"But I'll get there?"

Wylie had a feeling that Vega hadn't meant to structure that as a question. "You absolutely will," he said. "It's possible, so it'll happen." He sat down on the bed, not sure how much of the shine on her face was sweat and how much was tears. "You just can't overdo it, okay? That'll make things worse."

She sighed. "Learned that today. I was just feeling so good after my session this afternoon." She grabbed one of his hands again. Wylie wondered if it was a subconscious need to physically hold on to her past life.

Or maybe he was putting these ideas into his own head to justify visiting her every day. _If I hadn't come today, she wouldn't have tried to walk again. At least, probably not. Me being here is why she's exhausted and in tears._ "Michelle," he said hesitantly. "I don't know if I can make it tomorrow."

"Why?"

Wylie hadn't thought that far ahead. "You know…I have things to do and…"

"Okay." Her voice sounded small, and suddenly Wylie was paranoid that he had read the entire situation wrong. "I mean, I just have a dentist appointment and some errands to run, I could probably fit that all into the afternoon and still have time to come here. But if you wanted a day to yourself I was thinking…but if you…" he was backtracking and then tracking only to backtrack again, and he wasn't entirely surprised at how blunt his next words were. "Do you want me to come every day?" he asked her, point blank.

Her head tipped back and she took a deep breath. "I…" she looked at him. "I look forward to six. If you can't come every day, I understand. But…but don't stay away because you think you're smothering me. I…I really like having you here."

"Okay." Wylie nodded. "Okay. I just…I just wanted to make sure. Because the nurses were talking…"

"…about how no one else gets someone every day?"

"Uh…yeah."

"They don't think you need to dial back," Vega says. "They wish that everyone had someone like you. Trust me. I'm lucky."

"I just missed you so much," he said, his voice breaking. "Now that I can see you, I just…" he looked down. _I just want to see you all the time._

She squeezed his hand. "Come as much as they'll let you. Okay? If you deny me visiting hours I will have to punch you in the nose."

He laughed. "Alright. What do you want to do until I have to leave?"

"First off, both of us need to stop crying," she said sternly, and they both laughed. "That's better."

* * *

**I'm basing her struggles on building up her leg muscles off of memoirs from people who essentially had to learn to walk again due to muscular atrophy and neurological damage. Vega has no brain damage, so her struggle is solely building up her muscle again.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A shorter update, but hopefully one that will satiate everyone until the next time I can get a chapter up – might not be until Sunday, but I'll try for tomorrow!**

* * *

Wylie was surprised at what he saw when he entered Vega's room. She was sitting up in the bed with a book, not terribly unusual in itself, but her hospital gown was on the floor next to the bed.

Wylie cocked his head. "Is everything okay?"

She jumped, looking first at him, and then the clock. "I swear it was four o' clock ten minutes ago!" She closed the book. "Do you see?" She was smiling.

"Um. See what?" What Wylie _did _see was the still not quite healed wound that was just below her sports bra, but he didn't know that she'd be so proud of her stitches.

Vega gestured to her chest. "They gave me a bra!"

Wylie had not been aware this was a new development. "Oh. Oh, yeah, that's good…"

She smiled. "They wouldn't let me wear one until this morning. Said it could rub the wound and make it more prone to infection. Which was already a major concern, so." She glanced at the hospital gown on the floor. "Those things are so gross. I had to get rid of it."

Wylie smiled at her look of disgust.

"Come!" Vega said, patting the bed, looking slightly annoyed that he hadn't sat down yet. She smiled at him. "How was the dentist?"

"I got the assistant," Wylie said. "She cut my gums with her tools and then told me I was bleeding because I don't floss."

"Darn," Vega said. "Maybe if I'd flossed more they'd have given me the bra sooner."

Wylie laughed. "I would ask how you're feeling, but the bra speaks for itself."

"I feel better," Vega said. "More normal. You know?" She set her book on the stand attached to the bed.

"How's your therapy coming?"

Vega told him about how they were going to start submerging her to the waist in warm water so she could get low impact exercise, and how she could read now without getting a headache. She ranted at him about how the author was treating one of the characters in the book she was reading, and asked him about work. Then she asked him to help her walk.

"Are you sure?"

"I really didn't do much today. And I don't start my pool therapy until tomorrow. I won't overdo it. Please?"

Wylie nodded hesitantly. "Alright." He stood up and she slid off the bed. "Wow," Wylie said. "You got shorts, too?"

"I've been wearing shorts under my gown for a week," Vega said. "They weren't necessary, but I just really, really hate that gown."

She stepped forward, not taking his hands at first, but walking just ahead of him. "Have you considered a walker?"

"I will need one," Vega said. "For a while. But I don't want to use one just walking around the room." After a few minutes she turned around and put her hands on his lower arms, which he held out perpendicular from his body for support. "You know," she said as they kept moving around the room, "you could probably dance better than me right now."

"I don't know about that," he said.

"I can rip my stitches making sudden movements and I barely have my balance back," she said with a laugh. "We're at least equals."

"Maybe equals," Wylie conceded, smiling.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Yeah. Sure. Anything. What do you need?"

"I'm going to give you my address. There's a key around back under the bird bath."

"Okay." Wylie did know that no one had touched her house yet. He had initially found that odd.

"There's a necklace in a box on my dresser. My father gave it to me for my _quince_. It's important to me." Wylie nodded. "And bring me some clothes. Shirts. They said I can wear them during the day and when I'm not in therapy."

"Sure." Wylie nodded. "Anything else?"

"Can you bring me fruit? Fresh fruit?"

"Yeah," Wylie said. "Yeah, I can do that. But is it going to be okay with the facility? Remember, they practically autopsied those flowers."

"Try?" They were back at her bed now, and given the shakiness in Vega's walk, Wylie was glad when she let go of his hands and sat on the side of the bed as opposed to making another lap.

"Yeah, absolutely. I'll give it a shot."

She was so pretty when she was happy.

* * *

**Next chapter (as of now) has Wylie going to Vega's house, Lisbon, and the first real hints of what the action that's to come is about.**


	9. Chapter 9

**This is likely the last update until Monday, but we'll see. Hope everyone is still enjoying this story, your reviews have been absolutely making my day. :)**

* * *

Vega's house was small, but Wylie wasn't sure exactly what he expected. She was young and lived alone, he probably should have been surprised she wasn't in an apartment.

_Under the bird bath._ The house was brick, and it looked well taken care of, but then there wasn't much to do with it. Vega had no garden, no flowers, just a tiny front lawn that was probably kept neatly trimmed until the house sat a month empty. Now, weeds were popping up. There was a giant ant hill on the path to the front door.

Wylie walked around to the back, which consisted, essentially, of a wooden wishing well that had probably been there long before Vega had moved in, and the aforementioned bird bath, plastic, empty, probably weighted down from the inside with rocks. Wylie's childhood home had had one like it.

Tipping the bird bath over, Wylie saw the key taped to the bottom. He bent and retrieved it, then turned and stared at the house. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be there. Vega never talked about where she lived. He'd never been here when she was here, and he felt wrong being here when she wasn't, even though she'd told him to go.

He walked around to the front door and fit the key in the lock. Upon stepping inside, Wylie was surprised at the lack of a personal feel. To his right was a kitchen, a table that sat two in the corner. The living room was also in view, and it consisted a love seat, coffee table, and television with various gaming systems on the floor – the sole indication of the interests of the woman who had lived here.

_My room is opposite the living room, _Vega had told him. _On the right. Shirts are in the closet._

Her room wasn't much different. There was her bed, her dresser, her closet door was shut. She had bookshelves that given the levels of dust were probably squeaky clean the last morning she was here. It was immaculate – something Wylie really should have expected of Michelle Vega, but a part of him was genuinely surprised at how little the house appeared to be lived in. He'd always imagined her as coming home and having some secret aspect to her life, like she collected Care Bears or hung giant pictures of dogs or painted. She had a part of her, a light, happy, almost childishly playful part that Wylie had assumed she only kept hidden because she was at work. But there was no reflection of it in her home. Wylie wondered now if she hadn't been hiding that side of her – maybe it took a lot to be convinced to come out, especially after the tragedies she faced growing up.

Wylie opened her closet and pushed aside the shirts he'd seen her wear to work – there were easily two dozen of them. She hadn't specified what she wanted, but Wylie opted to search for clothes that were comfortable rather than professional. Pulling several tops off their hangers, he slipped them into the small travel bag he'd brought with him, then turned to her dresser to search for sweatpants.

Wylie opened one of the drawers, and froze. There were no sweatpants, or clothes of any kind.

He'd been worried about being in her home alone, with no direction other than "get me some clothes." He'd been worried about somehow invading her privacy.

And now he had, but as much as Wylie wanted to close the drawer, he couldn't stop staring.

In the drawer lay three pictures in frames, set down next to each other facing up. The first was of a party, probably the _quince _that Vega had mentioned to him. He smiled at the image of her at fifteen, so youthful, but so clearly her. The next picture was of Vega and an older man – her father, based on his uniform and the physical resemblance. She looked excited, he looked proud. The photo had to have been taken at West Point.

The third photo was what Wylie had seen first, and he felt like someone had punched him in the gut. The third picture frame was a double; the first photo showed Vega sitting on a chair near a hospital bed, a thin, tired looking man lying next to her. She was smiling, but it was clearly forced for the camera. The man in the bed was holding up a cupcake with the number _59_ on it. Wylie remembered Vega telling him that her father had died just weeks after his birthday. The second picture was from a newspaper clipping, and showed her from the side, in a cemetery, standing at attention and saluting in front of a grave.

Wylie slid the drawer shut, feeling like it was much heavier than when he'd opened it, and staggered backward, bumping into the bed and falling into a sitting position at the foot. He exhaled through his nose, his lips pressed together. As much pain as he had been in dealing with her 'death', Vega, years younger than him, had already been through so much more. He wondered why the pictures were so nicely framed but hidden away. Maybe she liked to look at them but they were too painful to see? Or maybe she didn't feel at home enough in this place to put personal things on display, even if only for herself.

"It's just not fair," he said quietly to the empty house.

He jumped when his phone rang, and he fumbled to get it out of his pocket. It was Lisbon. "Hello?"

"Hey Wylie, how ya doin'?" It was that calming, motherly voice again. Wylie found himself calming down, just slightly. "How does she do that?"

"What?"

"Sorry Lisbon, I was thinking about something else." Wylie rolled his eyes at himself. "I'm okay. Just..." he didn't like to lie. "Just...working my way through some stuff. Are there any updates on the case at the hospital?"

"Nothing much, unfortunately," Lisbon said. "Jane has seen a pattern of words in the most secure stuff they've been entering into the system, but he hasn't been able to make heads or tails of it. All we've been able to decipher is some repeated reference to Washington."

"D.C. or State?" Wylie asked.

"We don't know."

"I'll be back next week," Wylie said. "But if you want to send some stuff over, I can look at it tomorrow."

"No," Lisbon said. "You need time. I just wanted to check on you."

"I appreciate it," Wylie said. "Thanks Lisbon."

After hanging up, Wylie sighed and rose, checking the next drawer in Vega's dresser. Jackpot. He added two pairs of sweatpants to the bag and left the house. It was two in the afternoon.

* * *

Vega's first pool therapy went well. Her legs felt much better, more relaxed, less tight, and although she went to and from the exercise room being pushed in a wheelchair, she felt more in control of herself than she had been.

She fell asleep upon being returned to her room, and found herself extremely disappointed when she woke up and it was only two o' clock. Wylie wouldn't be there for four hours. She'd finished her book, and she was hungry.

_So basically, this is all really unpleasant._

She reached for her call buzzer. Ford was on duty. Ford would bring her food.

Her hand hit nothing. Vega cocked her head, sitting up and looking to see if it had fallen on the floor. It hadn't. She couldn't see it. It wasn't anywhere. She looked toward her door. No shadows; of course there wouldn't be, no one came down this hallway unless they were coming here or to the room across from hers.

She felt her heart start to race. No one was here. She didn't have her call buzzer. She couldn't call anyone. What if it was an emergency? How would anyone know something was wrong?

Vega's breath grew ragged, and she could feel her heart pounding in at least four different places. _I have to find the call button. _Sliding out of bed, she melted to the floor, looking under her bed, crawling – all the while struggling not to cry – around the room, looking in places she knew that it wouldn't be, but feeling the need to look anyway. She found it hard to breathe. _Deep breaths_, came a voice in her head. She tried to listen to it.

Eventually, she found the call button, not missing at all. It had simply fallen to the other side of the stand by her bed, danging from the cord, inches above the floor. Vega grabbed it and pushed the button down with as much force as she could come up with, then rolled onto her back, _calm down, Michelle_, sucking in one deep breath after another.

She barely heard Ford enter the room, but suddenly the nurse was there, checking her head for signs of a fall, sliding her gown over for a view of the stitches, reminding her to breathe, that everything would be okay, she was safe, in and out, _there you go._

"Wylie," she said, everything around her seeming blurry, unreal.

"Soon," Ford said, sliding her arms around Vega and lifting her up, easing her back onto the hospital bed. "He'll be here soon. What happened, Michelle?"

"I couldn't find my phone," she mumbled.

"This?" The nurse set the call button back on the stand. "It must have fallen. It's okay, Michelle. In and out."

Vega drew in one deep breath after another, feeling her heart rate slowing, steadying. She closed her eyes, embarrassed, as rational thought returned to her.

She was getting better. Her injuries were no longer classified as life threatening. She was perfectly capable of getting out of bed and calmly retrieving the call button. Why had she panicked?

She opened her eyes and looked at the clock. 2:10.

* * *

**I'm sure everyone knows exactly what specifically triggered Vega here, but she doesn't remember, so it's extra confusing for her, poor woman.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry to make you all wait a couple of days after that last update, but unfortunately, real life called. **

**Also, keep an eye out for updates and new fics on Wednesday – Roxanne and I are making #WomanCrushWednesday share its day with #WegaWednesday. Should be pretty awesome. Ahem, anyway...**

* * *

The question Vega had been pondering ever since the clock struck six and he wasn't there was answered at approximately six oh eight when he walked through the door. The look on his face made it obvious.

They'd told him. Of course they'd told him. She was shaky and vulnerable and it wasn't fair to either of them for him to not have had a heads up. But she was embarrassed, and she looked away.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She didn't look back at him, kept her head turned, staring at the bathroom door. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to speak. She didn't want him to hear the tremor in her voice and she sure as hell didn't want him to know how helpless she was feeling.

But most of all, she didn't want him to leave. It was an odd feeling, she thought. She didn't want him to see her like this, but at the same time she'd been counting down the minutes until he'd be here and of all the things uncertain in her life she knew that she didn't want him to go away.

She sighed, knowing it wasn't an answer.

"I can come back tomorrow," Wylie said. She heard him set something down – probably her clothes and whatever fruit he got past security. "Or...or whenever. Is that what you want?"

"No," she admitted, managing to control her voice enough to sound fairly normal.

She heard Wylie walking over to her bed, then felt him sit down on the edge. There was a long silence, then she felt his hand on her arm, sliding up to her shoulder, down to her elbow, then back again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." She was getting good with that word. She almost sounded like herself.

"You know," Wylie said after a moment, his hand still moving up and down her arm, "you don't have to be ashamed. There's nothing wrong with having emotions. Did you know that I cried right in front of Lisbon when they told me that you had died?"

She turned her head slightly, watching his hand.

"It's true. Guys don't cry, that jerk in the DEA told me last year when a door closed on my hand. Screw him. Guys cry. Girls cry." Wylie shrugged. "I don't know when acting human became so taboo, but I think it's stupid. I'm not saying you have to talk about it," he added quickly when he got no response from her. "Just that it doesn't make you anything less if you do."

"Thanks," she said quietly, still not looking at him. "I'm just not ready."

"I understand."

"Thanks."

There was another silence, then she looked up at him. "Did you bring me clothes?"

He nodded, getting up to retrieve the bag. "I did." Vega pushed herself into a sitting position, shedding her hospital gown, grabbing the first shirt that Wylie pulled out of the bag and pulling it over her head. The shirt fit her form, something that she was grateful for after five weeks in shapeless gowns, but wasn't so tight that the bumps from her stitches showed. She smiled in spite of herself. "Thank you, Wylie."

"No problem," he said. "It really was no problem." He sat back down on the bed and smiled at her, hesitantly. "You feeling better?"

She shrugged. "I've always been in control."

She knew that he knew that she was referring to her panic attack. "Everyone has those moments," he said. "Lisbon's told me that what's important is being someplace you feel safe when they happen, or having people that you can trust and are okay to be vulnerable around."

She found herself beginning to smile.

"And you," Wylie continued, "you've got all these wonderful nurses that are ready to take care of you and who know all about these things."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I'd thought you meant...never mind."

Vega shifted awkwardly. The hospital was going to have her start talking to one of their counselors in addition to the physical therapy. She wasn't looking forward to it. Sure, the nurses were kind and they were on top of things and they tried to make themselves as personable as possible, the doctors were brilliant and the therapy staff knew what they were doing. But she wasn't someone who was comfortable sharing herself with strangers, to the point that she'd hid something as shameless as her original career plans from Patrick Jane when they'd first met. She couldn't remember being shot, but it was an incredible relief to find out that Agent Cho had been with her, someone she knew and trusted. She was sure that she'd been comforted by his presence on that day, too.

These feelings of fear and helplessness swirling inside her weren't things she felt safe enough to share with anyone, not even Wylie. Not yet. She didn't know how she was supposed to get through a session with someone she didn't even know.

"Do you want some fruit?" Wylie said, raising his eyebrows. "I've got strawberries. Grapefruit."

She smiled, nodding, trying to push the dread from her mind. Wylie had to leave at eight. She had plenty of time to dwell on her feelings then.


	11. Chapter 11

**Today is an important day for many reasons. The series finale of The Mentalist is tonight (and God I cannot believe it's over!) and it's also what ennaxxor and I have dubbed #WegaWednesday! Meaning a definite fic update from me, a probably fic publication from her, and if you head over to my YouTube channel (same name as my name here) I have a Wylie/Vega vid uploaded!**

**Anyway...**

* * *

"Welcome back, Wylie," Lisbon said with a smile as he exited the elevator. "How you doin'?"

"Great," Wylie said, smiling at her. Her eyebrows shot up. "I mean," Wylie amended, "great considering. You know. I needed that time off. It helped me."

"That's good." She nodded. "We're glad to have you back. Go see Cho. He has some updates on the FWTC case." She touched his arm. "I'm glad you're doing better."

Wylie smiled, heading for Abbott's...Cho's...office, wondering why the hell he'd responded so cheerfully to Lisbon's inquiry. He knew none of them were privy to Vega's status. He had to be more careful.

"Cho?" Wylie said, rapping on the open door.

"Wylie," Cho said. "Come on in. Sit. How you doing?"

"I'm better," Wylie said, nodding. "I appreciate the time off. What have we learned?"

"Jane contacted Grace Van Pelt to help him go through the computer systems. It appears that the FWTC is working on military patients who have been through trauma under the guise of treating more minor ailments for more prestigious servicemen and women."

"Is that so?" Wylie asked.

"We think so. We also noticed that they've cracked down on their security in the past few weeks – since around the time we got that tip that something might go down."

"Lisbon said there was something to do with Washington?"

"Initially we believed that it might be connected to a shooting in Spokane Valley involving a Marine Master Sergeant," Cho said. "But it appears that the codes involving Washington are in reference to the identity of someone who is at the facility. A Patient Tacoma."

"Patient Tacoma? Who is that?"

"We don't know. Are you feeling up to cross checking incidents in Tacoma with military personnel over the past couple of months? Jane and Lisbon are going to fly into Seattle later today. There's a reporter there that used the name Patient Tacoma in a small newspaper outside the city. We want to see if it's connected."

"Yeah," Wylie said, nodding. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Great."

* * *

Vega's eyes kept going to the clock. 10:08. She'd only been with this therapist for eight minutes? No...ten, they took her two minutes early. Still. She had to be here until eleven.

Eight minutes was nothing. Certainly not long enough for her to be expected to talk about her feelings and her fears and what she remembered about February fourth. She didn't care that the therapist couldn't tell anyone else what she'd said. She didn't know this woman.

"I sense...I'm getting the feeling that you don't like opening up to people," the therapist said. Emily, Vega thought she'd said her name was.

"That would be a correct inference," Vega said, her arms still crossed.

"I know that it can be hard for people, especially people like yourself who always feel like they have a lot to prove. Showing weakness is scary to you, isn't it?"

Vega shifted. _You must have graduated at the top of your class._

"It's important in situations like this to share," Emily...Emma? Ella? continued. "That's how we are able to help you."

"What do you want to know?" Vega asked. She didn't understand this beating around the bush. If this lady was trying to get information out of her, she was going to have to be more blunt about what she wanted. Didn't she know Vega was trained in interrogation? She would never casually let something slip. She gave answers when she knew the questions and when she felt comfortable sharing. This song and dance wasn't for her.

"How are you holding up? In general. Do you feel satisfied with how you are progressing? Do you ever think things would be better if you weren't here?"

Vega narrowed her eyes. "Do I ever think things would be better if I wasn't here?" she repeated. "What are you implying?"

Em..._we'll go with Em. It's close enough. _"Sometimes, sometimes survivors of trauma are unable to handle their condition at first. Others have survivor's guilt. It's important that if you are feeling this way to talk about it so we know how to help you."

"You've got a lot of nerve asking me if I think it would be better if I'd have died," Vega snapped. "You think I don't want to live? I _shouldn't even be here_ for you to ask me that question. Ask anyone who's had anything to do with me. I lost my pancreas. I had a ruptured stomach. I fought off infection. I forced myself up and about like the nurses suggested so I wouldn't get pneumonia. I got pneumonia anyway. And you know what? I fought that off too. And I understand that this hospital is brilliant and medically advanced and I probably would not have made it anyway anywhere else, but at the end of the day I am alive because _I want to live_." She stood up. "This session's over. I'll let you know if I want another one."

Vega made a show of storming out, shutting the door decisively behind her, and made it down three hallways and almost to her room when the dizziness began to overtake her. She wobbled over to the wall and sank down in an empty wheelchair.

She sat alone for a while, and then Nurse Jaime appeared, silently taking control of the chair and wheeling Vega back to her room.

* * *

"I wish I could bring you some video games," Wylie said, "but they won't let outside equipment in. Plus, they say the sounds would bother people nearby."

"Ugh," Vega said, shaking her head. "I miss those. And I definitely miss kicking your butt at them."

"You did not kick my butt."

"Oh, open your eyes and look at the scores," she said, leaning back against the couch. "I crushed you."

Wylie grinned. Thankfully, _how did your session go_, while clearly the answer was _not well_, hadn't brought about any agitation or tears from Vega. She was clearly dejected and frustrated, but she was keeping it together, and that relieved Wylie. She looked good. Her skin and hair had healthy tones, she wasn't as painfully thin as she'd been when her body was putting all its energy into fighting infection, and when she'd pulled her shirt up to show him her wound when he'd arrived, it was nearly closed.

But she still looked tired. Her eyes weren't as bright as they once were, there were dark spots under them, and although she often tired by the end of their visit, the nurses had told him that she rarely slept through the night.

"How is your sleeping?" He asked hesitantly.

That was a topic she could be honest with him about. "I'm not sleeping much. I start thinking about things. Things I don't want to think about. It keeps me awake. When I get to sleep it's okay, but...it's getting there that's the hard part. Because my mind wanders and I think."

"About the trauma?" Wylie asked. "Or do you still not remember that?"

"Bits and pieces are coming back...maybe? I don't know. I might remember the faces of the men. Or I could just be projecting an image onto what you told me. But mostly I think about how every part of my life is now an unknown. When do I get out of here? Where do I go afterward? That sort of thing." She shrugged. "I don't know a thing about where my life will go, Wylie." she said. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Wylie thought a moment. "Let's try something," he said eventually, getting up and grabbing the pillow from the bed and sitting back down next to Vega. He handed her the pillow. "Try to sleep right now. Here on the couch. I'll talk to you. Give you something to think about."

She took the pillow and turned it over in her hands. "You won't go away?" she asked, looking concerned.

He shook his head. "If they try and make me go away I'll make a lot of noise and wake you up and no good caregiver would wake up someone who needs their sleep as badly as you."

"Okay." Vega said. She looked at Wylie. "Scoot down. That way."

"O...okay." Wylie did as he was told, shifting to the end of the couch. Vega tucked her legs up and leaned over, resting the pillow – and then her head and neck – on Wylie's lap, her back to him, the back of her head against his stomach.

Wylie's hand rested on her arm, after a moment returning to its familiar role of sliding comfortingly shoulder to elbow. "Let me tell you the story of my old girlfriend the horse thief..."

"Big Vel?"

"Big Vel. We met at a bar. I was on a trivia team there. She was serving all us nerds drinks and even laughed at some of the puns we made out of their names..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Well. It's hard to believe the show is over, but now I can finally write without worrying about canon popping back up and directly contradicting me (though I'm writing a fic where Vega is alive so why is this even concerning me? XD).**

**If you haven't yet read the new Wega fic "In Another Life" by my dear friend Roxanne (ennaxxor) go check that out!**

* * *

"Abbott!"

Lisbon's expression did nothing to suggest that it wasn't surprise in her voice. Behind her, one of Jane's eyes opened briefly and he lifted his head for a quick view of the computer screen.

"Hey Lisbon," Abbott said. "Told Cho to video call you guys while I was still here. Wanted to say hello!"

"Hello!" she said, smiling. "It's good to see you."

"You too. Where's your husband?"

"He's laying behind me," Lisbon said. "Pretending to be asleep as usual."

"I am asleep," Jane said.

"Is there any news on the case?" Lisbon asked. "We still think anything we did out here is a dead end. No one seems to know anything and Jane didn't get a sense anyone was lying to us."

"That's why Abbott is here," Cho said. "We were talking the other day and last night some folks contacted his people needing help with a suspect. We believe it may be related to the goings on at the FWTC."

"Apparently there is another facility similar to the one here about fifty miles out of my new dwellings," Abbott said. "Some guy showed up there asking questions. The people in charge have no idea who he was or how he found the place. At first they believed his story that he stumbled upon it, but eventually he spooked and took off. They gave chase and lost him. He was asking if anyone around the place knew anything about Washington State."

"Patient Tacoma," Lisbon said.

"Yes." Abbott nodded. "That's what we are assuming, and if I may ask, Teresa, why are you working?"

"Cho needed my help. And Jane's. Not to mention I am a part of this team." Lisbon raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.

"Yes," Abbott said. "But you got married just three weeks ago and Cho told you to take all the time you needed off."

"You moved away just two weeks ago," Lisbon said. "And yet you're here."

Abbot looked amused. "I'm not pregnant."

"And I'm not doing anything dangerous." Lisbon smiled. "Also, you're not my boss anymore."

"I told her not to come in way back when we started this," Cho said, leaning back in his chair. "She's being very insubordinate. I think Jane's a bad influence on her."

"Your kid is going to be _wild_," Abbott said. "How has Wylie been?"

"He's hanging in there," Lisbon said. "He seems more cheerful since he's been on his leave. Jane and I were going to drop over there tonight when we get back, see how he's holding up when he doesn't have his desk in front of him."

"Sounds like a good plan." Abbott looked at Cho. "As I said, I'll be here for the next two days if you need anything. Oh! I ran into your...ah...first fiancé the other day. He told me he's adopted two cats."

"Second fiancé."

Abbott turned to Cho with his eyebrows up. "Second fiancé!"

"Yeah. Guy she went to high school with. Jane was the third one."

"Third time's a charm I guess," Lisbon said. "Can we get back to the objective, boss?"

"Go ahead," Cho said. "Keep me posted."

Lisbon closed the laptop. "Come on, our flight leaves in two hours."

Jane was lying flat on his back in the middle of the bed. "Third fiancé, first husband," he said without opening his eyes, punching the air with his fist. "I win."

Lisbon grabbed a pillow and swatted him.

* * *

"Picking up the pace, I see!" Nurse Jaime held out his hand as Wylie and Vega passed him in the hallway. Vega reached out and slapped it. "Our third lap tonight!" she called over her shoulder, her arm linked with Wylie's. "I'll be entered in a 5K before you know it!"

"I like the optimism," Wylie said with a smile.

"Eh," Vega said, "I'm negative enough when I'm by myself. And while I have someone who is willing to walk the halls with me, who doesn't have to go tend to other patients? I gotta take advantage of that! _Lo que siembres cosecharás_, after all."

"What's that mean?"

"Basically you get out of something what you put into it."

"You reap what you sow?"

"Exactly. And right now, I am sowing myself some good legs."

"You think you'll come back to the FBI?"

Vega stopped. "Wylie, I can't. They think I'm dead."

"So what's going to happen?" Wylie said. "You'll be ready to leave and they'll ship you off somewhere where you'll never see us again?"

"I don't know. But I don't see how I can come back." She looked up at him. "I wish I could. I'd love to work for Cho, and Jane...he's just got such an interesting way of doing things."

"_Yeah_ he does," Wylie said, then frowned. "Did that sound sexual? I feel like that sounded sexual."

Vega burst into giggles, leaning on his arm for support, then tugging him forward. "Let's go, come on," she said, this time turning down the small hallway to head back to her room. She leaned her back against the door, pushing it open while keeping her eyes on him. "Thanks for being my walker," she said. "I hate that wheelchair. I need to practice a lot."

"I like walking with you," he said. "I like seeing you like this."

"Tired and starting to sweat from simply lapping the section three times?"

"No," Wylie said. "You look happy. And you're really pretty when you're happy."

She tipped her chin down ever so slightly, thrown off by the compliment, feeling herself blush ever so slightly. Fortunately, she had to blush pretty badly before it really became noticeable, especially when she was already flushed from the exercise. "Open your eyes, Wylie," she said, shaking her head and smiling.

He grinned.

She sank down on the couch, patting the spot next to her. "This is so much better than that therapist."

"Still having trouble talking to her?"

"I'm not someone that opens up easily," she said. "You know that. Remember when I insisted on lying to Jane about West Point? This...this is way more personal. And I can't talk about that with someone professional. It feels too...inorganic. Especially when nothing I can tell her will make me feel better because she can't bring the memories back."

She stopped. "I'm...I'm not good at talking about things I'm feeling," she said after a moment. "Because it makes me feel weak. Like how when you cut open a watermelon. It seemed too impenetrable, and then suddenly there's juice and seeds everywhere, and you can cut through the inner part of a watermelon with a _toothpick _if you wanted. And I have always been the complete watermelon but my mind is betraying me and showing the inside and I don't know what's causing it and I'm exposing that part of me to whoever happens to be on nursing staff when I panic."

Wylie didn't say anything, just cocked his head and gave a small nod, waiting for whatever else she wanted to tell him. _Thank you, Wylie. _There is a part of my life...a significant part...and I don't remember it." Her breathing became audible. "It's blocked out. And I'm having to live with the consequences. I've had major surgeries. I haven't left this hospital in over a month. I have scars. My career is probably over. And it's all because of this event that I have no memory of. How am I supposed to get past these panic attacks if I can't even understand what is causing them? Last night I tripped and caught myself – the nurses were there and just watched. I know that they're trying to give me independence but suddenly I found myself crying and I don't know why." She looked down. "They tell me to try and go to a safe place in my head."

"But you don't know what the safe places are?"

"I usually think about you."

There was a silence, and she glanced up at him. He was smiling, but there was a somber expression on his face, as if he was distressed over her general inability to recognize what would turn out to trigger her and what would not. He reached out and closed his hand over hers, their fingers bumping into each other as they figured out placement. She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. "Wylie?"

"Hmmm?"

She let out a deep sigh. "I don't know if I could do this without you."

"You could," Wylie said. "You're strong. You don't let anyone..."

"I've been alone," she said, lifting her head and looking up at him. "My father's been dead for years. My mother died when I was less than a year old. My dad's parents died in Cuba before my parents even got married, and I never knew my mother's parents. I've had no one since my father died. And it's hard, Wylie. It's really hard. I really don't know how I'd be handling all this if you weren't here. Everyone has a breaking point and I know how close I am to mine. I'm progressing physically so much faster than I am mentally. And it's scary and I'm ashamed. But..." she gave him a smile and put her head back on his shoulder. "...but I feel good when you're with me. Or at least better. I laugh and I smile and I'm..."

There was a rapid knock at the door, and then Ford appeared. "Mr. Wylie. It's ten after eight."

"Right." He cleared his throat. "I'll just be a minute. Thank you." He looked at Vega. "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow. Kay?"

"Kay," she said quietly, nodding. He squeezed her hand as he got up, gave her a small smile, and then turned for the door.

"Wylie?"

He looked back at her. "Yeah?"

Vega stood up and walked over to him, throwing her arms around him and standing on tiptoe to rest her chin against his collarbone. He hugged her back. "It's going to be okay," he said reassuringly. "Everything is going to be okay. We'll figure it out."

* * *

"That's really strange," Lisbon said, staring at Wylie's front door as if that would make him appear. "He didn't say he was going anywhere tonight."

"Maybe he had plans," Jane said. Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not one of my finest theories."

"Voicemail again," she noted, putting her phone back in her pocket.

"He probably went to the cemetery," Jane said. "We'll see him tomorrow."

"You're not worried?"

"Teresa," Jane said. "Wylie's a grown man and we have no reason to believe he's in any danger. I'm sure he's fine. And if he's with Vega right now, do you really want to disturb him?"

"You're right," she said, nodding. "Okay. Let's go home."


	13. Chapter 13

**New chapter time! Hope you all enjoy it. Things are really going to start happening soon...both on the Wega front and on the case front! Thanks for all the reviews so far!**

* * *

"Wylie," Cho said the moment the younger man entered the bullpen the following day. "Come to my office."

Wylie stopped, eyeing Cho with suspicion. "O...okay."

"Come on," Cho said, waving his hand, sounding irritated that Wylie wasn't already down the hall.

"Did I do something wrong?" Wylie asked as they walked into the office. "Was I supposed to come in early today?"

"No," Cho said, closing the door and crossing his arms. "You know we've been shorthanded."

"Yes." Wylie knew where the conversation was going. "We have a new rookie."

"Yes. Her name is Theophilia Kemper. She starts on Monday."

"Okay."

Cho let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he continued. "I wanted to let you know so you could be ready for her to join us. She both is and isn't a replacement for Vega. You understand? She can't replace how you felt about Vega and she isn't Vega, but she _is_ coming in to do Vega's job and what happened to Vega was not her fault, so..."

"So you don't want me to resent her."

"Exactly. She's around Vega's age, and she's ambitious. She is getting her start with us and we can't let what happened to Vega inhibit her career. Just remember, she is taking Vega's place on the team, but no one expects you and her to have the same sort of relationship that you two were developing. She knows we're grieving and I'm sure she'll be sensitive to that, but we have to make her feel welcome."

Wylie nodded. "Understood. Understood."

Upon being excused from the office, Wylie wandered back out to his desk. Vega's instantly fell into view, and he set his jaw at the thought of someone else using it. _It's just a desk,_ he reminded himself. His eyes wandered around the bullpen.

"Lisbon?" Wylie said, cocking his head. She was laying on the couch, her hands over her face. "Hey, you okay?" She didn't respond. Feeling anxious, Wylie power walked over to her. "Lisbon?"

Her hands parted and she stared up at him, squinting. "Splitting headache. Pretty sure I can't take aspirin."

"Ah. Where's Jane?"

"He's working overtime at the house. I told him to just let it be his project, let it last a while, but he's always doing something." She smiled at him. "How was your night last night?"

"Oh, not bad," Wylie said. "Stayed in, you know. Backed up my home laptop. It was pretty exciting."

"You want to know something ridiculous?"

"Always."

"When I was at the CBI, my home computer was named Dat Ass."

Wylie let out a little laugh. "Why?"

"Because," Lisbon said. "Every couple of weeks it would tell me that it was time to back Dat Ass up. I thought it was hysterical, every time."

"That doesn't sound like you!"

"Trust me," she said, "no one at work new about it. _I_ don't even think it sounds like me."

"That's funny," Wylie said. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. What about you? I know Cho was going to talk to you about the new agent."

"I'll...I'll be okay," Wylie said. "It'll take some getting used to, but..." he shrugged. "I have to, right?"

* * *

"Hey," Jane said affectionately, putting his work aside when Lisbon walked into the house. "How was your day?" he asked, kissing her in greeting.

"My head's a bit better now," she said. "Cho wants to send another group back to the FWTC in a couple of days. I will probably go. What's this you're working on?"

"I think we should add a room here," Jane said, drawing a circle on his blueprint. "Like a little work space for you. What do you think?"

"I can work at the dining room table," she said. Jane gave her his best _aw, come on_ look, and she grinned and rolled her eyes. "Little work space it is." She walked a few feet away to sink down in one of the chairs Jane had set up. "_Y_ou know that Wylie told me he was home last night?"

"He did?" Jane said, staring down at his plans, not sounding as if he was completely focused on their conversation.

"Yep. He also told me he went to see my doctor and the baby has three heads."

"Is that so?" Jane said, still looking down at the table. After a moment, he turned to look at her, confused. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Wylie said he was home last night. But we know he wasn't."

"He was probably at the cemetery."

"But why would he lie about that?"

"Maybe he's embarrassed."

"What would he be embarrassed about? It's not strange to grieve the loss of someone close to you."

"People often don't feel comfortable admitting their grief," Jane said. "It takes me either a lock on the door or five years with a CBI agent to open up."

"Does this mean you lied about never going to the cemetery in Sacramento?"

Jane shook his head. "No. But Wylie believes that Vega is in that grave and that her spirit cares for him – you know how he bought into Gabriel's lie about her telling him she's okay."

"I don't think he would lie about it," Lisbon said. "I have an idea."

"Nope."

"Oh, come on. Just one day."

Jane looked over at her, then rolled his eyes playfully. "Fine."

* * *

After spending so much time at the FWTC, Wylie didn't think much else about the casual day to day could startle him, but when music started playing over the P.A. system, he jumped what felt like a good two feet in the air.

Vega laughed. "It's music, Wylie." She grabbed his hand. "Let's dance!"

"Why are they...Mich...hey, stop it!" Wylie's smirk wasn't helping his protests as she twirled, moving in a small circle around him and laughing, pulling him around with her.

"They play music every time they have to move a patient," she said. "If it's an extensive moving process, they play to cover up the noise."

"Why would they move someone?"

"I don't know," Vega said. She backed up a step and twirled, holding their hands above her head. "Come on, Wylie." He rolled his eyes dramatically before moving closer to her and beginning to move. "That's more like it," she said, grinning. "You've gotten better!"

"I might have practiced a little bit the night after the party."

"You going to let me teach you how to Salsa?"

"Ah, we'll see. The wedding would have been so much more fun if you were there, though" Wylie said. "I'm certain you'd have loved my new dance moves. And it would have been a lot more fun to dance _with_ someone..."

"What wedding are we talking about?" Vega asked.

Wylie turned his head slightly to the side. "Jane and Lisbon's."

Vega stopped. "Jane and Lisbon got _married?_"

"I didn't mention that?"

"No!"

"Oh." Wylie frowned. "I swear I did."

"Uh, no you didn't," Vega said, raising her eyebrow. She took a few steps backward and sat on her bed, folding her arms.

"Uh, sorry," Wylie said, mimicking her tone. "I guess I was too busy getting used to the fact that you're alive."

"Uh," Vega said in the same manner, "_you're_ clearly still getting used to the fact that you're my only source of outside news. What else has happened that I don't know about? Has Cho been named director of the FBI?"

"Lisbon's pregnant."

"_What_?"

"I...I take it I didn't mention that either."

"_Wylie!_"

"Sorry! Sorry."

"No appointment for Cho though, huh?"

"He's pretty happy with his most recent promotion," Wylie said.

"Are there any big changes in _your_ life that I don't know about? Or with the FBI in general?"

"Did I tell you I've spent every evening for the past two weeks at a super-secret medical facility visiting someone whose funeral I attended just over a month ago?" He smiled when she did. "Oh, not really related to me, but...well...sort of, I guess. We're getting out new rookie on Monday."

Vega blinked. "Yeah?"

She sounded twenty years younger when she said that. Wylie wondered if it had been a mistake to tell her. "Yeah. Agent...it starts with a K. Cho told me today."

Vega nodded, biting her lip. "Well, I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back, so..." she shrugged. "Good. I'm glad that they'll have a full team again. It's gotta have been hard to be short staffed."

Wylie decided to change the subject. "I did almost move to Utah."

"Utah? What's in Utah?"

"A new unit," Wylie said. "It was...I was feeling sorry for myself. I didn't feel competent in the field with Cho, and your desk...seeing it empty was really hard. I told myself I was making a good career choice, but in reality, I was trying to run. Like Lisbon did when she almost married Marcus Pike."

"See, now _there's _something I know about." Vega tipped her head. "But you stayed."

"Yeah. Cho knocked some sense into me. Kinda like when Rafiki whacked Simba on the head."

"You should have known I was alive when I didn't appear overhead and tell you to..." Vega dropped her voice, "_remember who you are._"

"You know, Cho told me to remember who _you_ are," Wylie said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Said that you would never run. Not from a challenge. And I needed to remember that and do the same thing." Wylie smiled down at her. "He really thought highly of you, Michelle. I know you wanted his approval, and believe me...you have it."

"Does...do you two ever...do I come up...ever?" Vega asked.

"Of course!" Wylie nodded. "You come up. You're a part of our little FBI family."

"So if you asked him something about me he'd tell you?"

Wylie's confusion showed on his face. "What would I ask him?"

"About the day I was shot."

"I told you what happened."

"Details, Wylie. I want to figure out what is triggering my panic attacks and I can't do that unless I know everything. Would he tell you?"

"I..." Wylie looked down at his hands. "I don't know, honestly."

"Can you try?"

He hesitated a moment, then gave a small nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I can try, I just..." he looked back at her, his eyes betraying him.

She sat up. "What?"

"It's...it's just..." Wylie shrugged. "I know you're here. And I know you don't remember but I don't know if I could listen to Cho tell me details."

"If you can't do it I understand," she said.

"I'll do it," Wylie said. "I will."

"Thanks." She smiled up at him, then stood, holding out her hand. "Come on. You can't get out of dancing that easily!"

Wylie laughed, pulling her back in, spinning her around the room. She threw her head back and laughed, over dramatized her bout of dizziness for humor, and squeezed his hand with her own, grinning at him as they continued their fun, not noticing at first when the music stopped.

* * *

**Just want to clarify a few things here - first of all, the new agent is not going to come between Wylie and Vega. I don't do love triangles for the fun of it. It just makes sense that they'd get a new person to fill out the team. Also, the next chapter will include some description of the scene in 7.10 after Vega is shot. I know that's still upsetting for some, so just remember - SHE'S ALIVE IN THE FIC. SHE'S ALIVE IN THE FIC. That's honestly what keeps me from crying when I write this stuff.**


	14. Chapter 14

**New chapter time! Stuff really starts escalating next chapter, which I hope to have up for Wega Wednesday! Thanks to all who have taken the time to review so far!**

* * *

As the younger agent suspected, his boss was not thrilled with the idea of sharing shootout stories. "Wylie, this isn't the kind of thing you want to hear," Cho said. "You know the basics of what happened. I don't think she would want you to know the rest."

"See..." Wylie leaned on the desk. "See I just...I have this feeling that she would, you know?"

"No."

Wylie sat down in the chair across from Cho. "Boss, please. Did anyone in the diner say anything that would have upset her? Did she...did she try to get up and, and fall back?"

"No," Cho said.

"No to...which one?"

"Either. I came back into the diner and everyone was staring. I told them to call an ambulance – she was feeling around on the ground near her, looking for her phone. Trying to help herself. She was tough like that. She would have made a damn good agent."

"Was she scared?"

Cho was silent.

"Boss."

"Yes, she was. She was asking where the help was. She knew she was badly injured and she was panicking. Fortunately, I got her focusing on my voice and by the time she lost consciousness she'd calmed down some."

Wylie looked down, nodding. _She's okay, _he reminded himself. "Okay," he said out loud. "You were proud of her, though?"

"She never backed down. Never so much as flinched. She was ambitious, sometimes too much, but she was tough and she was loyal. I would have liked to have been able to work with her a long time." He leaned forward. "Wylie, there are counselors available for this kind of thing. I went to see one myself. I'm sure Abbott recommended it to you before he left."

"No," Wylie said. "I'm fine. I don't want any of that."

Upon dismissal from Cho's office, Wylie wandered back out into the bullpen, turning what Cho told him over in his head. _Everyone was staring...trying to help herself...everyone was staring..._

* * *

"Does any of this...jog your memory...at all?" Wylie asked.

He was sitting on the hospital bed, Vega laying on top of the covers, ankles crossed, brow furrowed contemplatively. She didn't respond, didn't even move, which made Wylie concerned. "Michelle? You okay?"

She looked up at him then. "I...I mean..." she shook her head. "I don't remember that. But my heart is pounding. Something in me knows what you're saying is true." She grabbed his hand, her expression fairly neutral, her grip telling a different story. Wylie felt as if his hand was her lifeline, so he put his other one on top. "This is good," he said. "If you know what your trigger is, you can help yourself."

"How am I supposed to go the rest of my life not putting myself in situations where I might have to rely on other people?"

"I don't think that's what anyone would tell you to do," Wylie said. "You'll just be able to remind yourself that simple things are, in fact, simple, and safe, and, I don't know, but it's not impossible. And I'm right here if you need me."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Wylie wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, if he'd overestimated his significance to her, if his presence wasn't enough to help her out of a panic and if she thought he was putting himself on a pedestal. He looked worriedly at her. "I mean..."

She sat up and leaned, her head coming to rest against his chest, not putting her arms around him but keeping them against her stomach. She'd done this before. She wanted to be held, and Wylie shifted his position on the bed to pull her close. "Hey," he said comfortingly, "this is a good thing. This will help you get better."

He felt her sigh. "I'm just..."

"I know." She was embarrassed being this weak emotionally, seeking out comfort, feeling afraid. Her wound was closing, the stitches would be out in a few days and she was using the wheelchair less and less, but mentally she was barely better than she had been when she was lying in Cho's arms on the diner floor. "It takes time, Michelle. You're gonna be okay, though."

She pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I just don't want to be like this anymore."

His hands went back to hers, and he gave a small nod. "I know."

She held his gaze, tipping her head to the side. "Thank you, Wylie."

"...sure."

"Just for..." Vega shrugged. "For being a safe place." Her voice cracked on "safe," and she let out a shaky sigh.

Wylie squeezed her hands. "Always."

She smiled. "You're really great, Wylie." Her smile slipped. "Is it weird? That I call you Wylie?"

"No," he said. "Of course not."

"It just...it suits you. Like...Wylie's your name. I know it's Jason too, but..." one side of her mouth came up. "But you're Wylie to me." She lay back, still holding his hands. "Tell me more about Jane and Lisbon's wedding."

* * *

"What do you have?" Jane asked, leaning over the table behind Lisbon.

"You finally managed to escape the rest of the agents asking what made you decide to come in today?"

"I told them I was jealous of work getting you so many hours out of the day."

"Uh huh," Lisbon said, grinning. "Well, it's a good thing you came in and got the tracking devices placed in Wylie's car, because it shows that he was at the FWTC last night – at least, he was in the vicinity of it."

"You going to tell Cho?"

"I have to," Lisbon said. "He's taking so many risks for this case...I admire him for wanting to prove himself, and wanting to do what Vega would do, but he's putting himself at risk. Whoever Patient Tacoma is, someone wants them dead, and Wylie trying to garner any extra intel without backup could reunite him with Vega much sooner than planned." She stood up. "He's going to hate me for it, but I have to tell Cho that I think he isn't fit for duty without talking to a counselor first."

* * *

**For those of you wondering - yes, Vega's physical injuries are almost healed, but her mental recovery is slower. She is getting better, though, and that will become more apparent in future chapters.**


	15. Chapter 15

**New, short chapter! Tomorrow is Wega Wednesday, and I've got a special chapter planned to go up then!**

**Also - if you haven't read "Blackest Before Dawn" by Roxanne, you should go and do that now! It takes place in the days after 7.10, so before this fic takes place.**

* * *

Wylie came out of the break room as Lisbon was leaving Abbot's – Cho's – office. He smiled at her. She looked down at the ground. "Hey, is something wrong?"

She looked at him – he got the feeling that she wished he hadn't engaged with her – and gave a short nod. "Yeah, no, nothing." She smiled. "Nothing."

She'd barely gotten the words out before Cho appeared. "Wylie?" He motioned with his hand, and Wylie, sipping his coffee, followed him to his office.

"Is there a break in the case?" Wylie asked.

"Possibly. We have eyes on a man who we believe may be the one targeting the Patient Tacoma. Trouble is, he's in Mississippi right now and hasn't moved in days. He's engaging in completely normal activities. We can't bring him in for questioning yet because it might lead to mainstream media finding out about these hospitals, and we don't even know fully what their purpose is yet. We'll be sending some agents in to the FWTC in a day or so to speak with their director."

"Are the patients in danger?"

"Not immediate danger," Cho said. "But if our suspect crosses state lines, things could change fast." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Wylie, I know that you were at the FWTC just yesterday."

Wylie was taken aback. "W-what?"

"Don't play," Cho said sharply. "You were there. And that concerns me." He paused. "Wylie, I'm worried about you. You're engaging in dangerous behavior. Going to the FWTC without backup? Dangerous. And stupid."

"I..."

"I know you want to pull your weight. But putting yourself at unnecessary risk is not the way to do that. I'm not a therapist, but I'm pretty sure this has to do with Vega."

"You don't understand. Vega's...Vega's at the FWTC. She's alive."

Cho sat up straighter. "Wylie, is this your idea of a joke? Because I'm not laughing."

"No!" Wylie said. "I'm not joking. She's there. She's getting better. In a way Gabriel was right – she's okay."

"Wylie," Cho said. "Vega was shot and killed on February fourth. You know that. We all went to her funeral."

"But..."

"Hey," Cho said. "I know you had feelings for her, and I know that this is the first time you've experienced loss on the job. It's a tough thing to get through." Another pause. "I'm going to recommend you for therapy and relieve you of your duties until you have completed it."

"What?"

"You're taking unnecessary risks. Your mind is playing tricks on you. I understand your grief, but I can't put my team in danger."

"I'm...I'm not a danger!"

"Wylie," Cho said. "Go home."

Wylie remained in the chair for a moment, in shock. Then he nodded and rose.

"Wylie."

He turned. "Yes."

"Go _home_."

Wylie understood exactly what Cho meant by that. "Yes sir."

He exited the office and headed for the elevator. This time it wasn't Lisbon that avoided the eye contact.

* * *

"He thinks Vega is alive."

"Yes."

"Oh my God," Lisbon said, putting a hand to her forehead.

Jane shrugged. "Maybe it's true. What?" he asked, holding his hands out as Lisbon and Cho turned in unison to look at him. "Stranger things have happened."

"I'm not interested in discussing your marriage right now," Cho quipped. "Vega's dead. We all saw her body."

"In the hospital," Jane said. "Not in the coffin."

"Jane, will you just stop?" Lisbon asked, tears springing to her eyes.

"Wylie's a smart man," Jane said. "Do you really see him as someone who would become convinced that some other random woman was Vega?"

"He believed that Gabriel was a real psychic," Cho said. "He's desperate to believe _something_."

"Fake psychics can convince almost anyone," Jane said, "this is different."

"Jane," Lisbon said, "people can get messed up when they lose someone."

"I know that."

"Exactly," Lisbon said. "You completely changed. My father went from kind and loving to abusive. People take extremes. He cared about her a lot. He's easily manipulated by his own mind, and having this kind of case has to mess with his head."

"But," Jane said, "what if it's not?"

"I've sent him home," Cho said, "and he'll be attending therapy sessions. For now, we have to focus on our own investigation and trust that it will be helpful for him. We have to focus on the FWTC and whatever is going on with Patient Tacoma. Now, day after tomorrow I'm going to go there, Lisbon, you'll be waiting on the outside. Monday we'll have Agent Kemper and that'll make things easier. Once this is cleared up, hopefully it'll be easier for Wylie to move on."


	16. Chapter 16

**Alrighty, one last chapter before Wega Wednesday! Expect a very special chapter tomorrow! (Also bonus points to anyone who picks up on the subtle Disney movie reference in this chapter. Aside from you, Brit. You can't guess because I told you.)**

* * *

Wylie paused in the doorway, cocking his head. "Michelle?"

Vega was lying on the ground, her legs up on the couch, her hands resting on her stomach. She tipped her head back at the sound of his voice. "You're early!" Her smile vanished. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Wylie lied. "Just...Cho gave me the day off, and since they moved that patient that was across the hall from you, they'd offered me different visiting hours if I filled out some extra security paperwork. So I figured I'd surprise you." The smile was back. "What are you up to?"

She laughed. "What does it look like I'm up to? I'm elevating my legs. Seriously, open your eyes, Wylie."

"If I had a top of the line operating system for every time you told me to open-"

"It's good for blood flow," Vega interrupted. "Even for healthy people, you know."

"Is it?" Wylie eased himself onto the floor next to her, resting his own calves against the edge of the couch. He turned his head to grin at her. "How have you been?"

"Good," she said. "Pool therapy went really well this morning. Physically, most of what needs to be done now is just stamina related. I get tired _so_ easily. But I'm out of the woods."

"That's good! What...what comes next, then? Where are they going to make you go?"

"I'll have to be away from Austin," she said after a silence.

"Out of the country."

"Not necessarily. Some of the patients here have to completely change their identities, appearances, everything, because the people who hurt them are still out there. I was not targeted, and Sellers is dead. So I'm safer than many. But I can't go back into the world as who I was, because people have been told I died. It was on the news. If I suddenly re-appear, it would put the hospital – and the more endangered patients – at risk. The military can't have that." She was silent. "I don't want to go away, Wylie," she said after a moment, tipping her head to the side to look at him. "The FBI was slowly becoming a family. For a moment, if only just a moment...I _belonged_." She pressed her lips together. "After being alone for years, I...I hate that I've lost that."

"Do you think you'll be able to stay in Texas?" Wylie asked. "I mean, if staying in Texas is something you'd want to do."

"I don't know," Vega said. "They haven't talked about releasing me yet. Details will be saved until it's imminent."

"Hmmm." Wylie hesitated. "I might have done a bad thing."

Vega looked startled. "What?"

"I told Cho about you."

"What?" Her eyes were wide. "They'll make you leave!"

"No," Wylie said. "The...the case we're working on involving this place, the situation could get dangerous and...and they needed to know. For everyone's sake."

"They believed you?"

"Ah, well," Wylie said, "no. Actually Cho's relieved me from duty until I undergo therapy to help me deal with your death."

"I want to be so angry about this," she said, "but I suppose we can't blame them. They did go to the funeral...but we've all seen Criminal Minds. Sometimes crazy stuff happens and people live."

"Plus, they did see your body," Wylie said.

Vega looked confused. "What? It was a closed casket funeral."

"No it was, they didn't do a wax dummy or something. I mean at the hospital."

"The hospital? What happened at the hospital?"

"They...Cho, Abbot, Jane and Lisbon, they...they were in your room. They were told you were in recovery when you crashed..."

"They saw me?"

Wylie nodded. "You were in a hospital bed, the covers all tucked around you, unplugged from the machines. With your hair down." His voice cracked. "Much like I saw you the first time I came here."

Vega sat up. "_What_?"

"I...I..." Wylie stammered, not sure what to say.

"They aren't supposed to do that!" She pulled herself to her feet. "They're supposed to just..." she put her hands on her head and turned in a circle. Wylie scrambled to his feet as she sank down on the bed. "_Why_?" she bellowed, sounding agonized.

"Hey hey hey!" Wylie said quickly, going to her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Hey." He wasn't sure what else to say. "Are...you're angry?"

"Of course I'm angry!" she shouted. "They're supposed to just come out and say we don't make it. They aren't supposed to let anyone _see_ us like that!" She grabbed her call cord and repeatedly jammed her thumb against the button.

* * *

After Wylie was sent out into the hall, it took nurses Ford and Jaimie plus Angela and Ulliam Westing, the surgeon, a solid half hour to calm Vega down. "How could I possibly have survived but look so convincingly dead that my own team wouldn't know I was alive? And why would you leave them with that?"

"Your heart stopped twice during surgery," Westing said. "You know that. You were incredibly weak, and your bloodstream was tainted. We had to slow everything down to prevent infection from spreading too quickly for you to be transported here after the initial operation. You team demanded that they see you and we determined it was the best way to convince them that you had not made it."

"That's not how you're supposed to do things," Vega said, still agitated. "How in the world did you know I wasn't going to stop breathing while you paraded my body in front of my coworkers?"

"We had oxygen going right into your bloodstream via an IV that was hidden under the blankets," Jaimie said. "Your team would not have noticed it unless they were looking for it, which, of course, they were not."

"They did something similar on Scorpion," Ford mentioned. "There was an episode where this kid was trapped in a...not...not that that makes your anger any less justified," she amended upon receiving a glare from her patient.

"Is that why you let Agent Wylie visit me?" she demanded. "To make yourselves feel better after this crap?"

"You know why we let Agent Wylie visit you," Angela said. "He was conducting an FBI investigation into our facility and came across you. He was granted visiting privileges in exchange for his silence on the matter, though we have reason to believe that deal has been compromised."

"Please don't do anything to him," Vega said, suddenly anxious.

"We're not going to do anything to him," Angela said. "But some of the security forces on staff here will be investigating what people know. Especially considering some of the other patients we have here."

Vega exhaled hard through her nose, folding her arms as she leaned against her bed.

"We understand how you must feel," Westing began carefully. "I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that we have three excellent therapists on staff who..."

"I am not going to therapy!" Vega snapped.

"Michelle," Jaime began.

"Leave me alone," she said. "Please, all of you. Just leave." She motioned with her hand to the door.

"Do you want Agent Wylie back in here?" Ford asked.

Vega shook her head. "I need to be alone. Tell him I'll see him tomorrow – that is, if you'll still let him come."

Ford set her jaw, looking over at Angela. The older woman let out an exasperated sigh, then motioned for the nurses to follow her. Westing was already gone.

* * *

"She wants to be alone," Ford told Wylie as Angela and Jaime passed him in the hall. Wylie didn't hear her words at first – he was too busy being grateful to be alive after Angela's eyes fell on him, because if looks could kill...

"Oh, alright," he said, nodding. "Um...am I still going to be able to..."

"Fortunately for you, Angela received a call from your supervising agent shortly before being called to Michelle's room. She's aware of the potential threat to the facility and understands that the FBI can be of help, as long as it is need to know. You can return tomorrow as scheduled, and if you can think of any way to make Michelle feel better, well, bring those ideas with you. She's not going to trust us too easily after this."

"Can I ask..."

"Because Agents Cho and Abbott were told that she made it to recovery. It was a hospital error, made by someone who didn't understand the exact protocol of how an FWTC interception works. Usually, they 'die' on the table, and we don't let them be seen. Because she was confirmed to be in recovery, we had to give them something to view."

Wylie shook his head. "You tainted the last image they have of her."

"She's alive," Ford snapped. "Why can't that be good enough for you?"

"How dare you say that her being alive isn't enough for me," Wylie said angrily. "Forgive me if I don't like it when she's this upset. She's been through enough!"

"Don't you think we know that?" Ford shouted. "Things happen. We're not perfect. None of us wanted your team to have to see her, and it wasn't our fault that they did. We're just doing our jobs."

Wylie lowered his head slightly. "I...I know, I'm sorry. I just..."

"You love her," Ford said, "and you don't like to see her put through this. I understand that. Unfortunately, her situation is actually an extremely lucky one, as hard as it may seem. We've done about all we can do for her, but we can't let her back out into the real world until she's mentally ready, and she's still quite fragile – today is only proof of that. We can only do so much at a place like this – which is why we do allow visitors whenever we feel we can. It's rare. She's lucky to have you, I've told you this before. Come back tomorrow. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you." She touched Wylie's arm. "I understand your anger, but there's nothing we can do to change what's happened. What we _can _do is let you be there for her, which is what she needs right now."


	17. Chapter 17

**Happy Wega Wednesday!**

* * *

"I have a surprise for you!" Wylie said as he bounded into the room the following afternoon. Was that enthusiastic enough? It had to be, he was _thrilled_ to be able to do this for her.

Vega was sitting on the couch with a book. She looked up and gave him a small smile. "Yeah?"

She sounded hesitant. He wasn't surprised, considering how rattled she'd been the day before. "Yep." Wylie grinned and stood still a moment for dramatic effect, then left the room and came back pushing a wheelchair. "They're going to let me take you outside."

Her eyes widened, and she set the book down, standing up only slightly shakily. "Wylie, you better be serious."

"Dead serious," Wylie said. "I mean, just to the courtyard and we have to go in the chair, but..." he saw the excitement on her face and grinned. "Come on over."

It was the most eagerly that he'd ever seen her get into the wheelchair. "Let's go!"

Vega laughed as Wylie wheeled them toward the courtyard, picking up the pace at times, being dramatic with the corners. He laughed along with her.

It was already evening, of course, so the daylight was dimming, but it was still very easy to see everything in the courtyard – the two trees, the bench, the swing set. As Wylie pushed the chair through the doors to the outside, Vega spread her arms and tipped her head back, inhaling deeply.

"It's a nice day out," he said.

"Honestly, it could be hailing and I'd be in love with the weather," Vega said. "Gosh, is this what fresh air is like? I'd forgotten!"

He helped her ease onto the bench, then sat beside her. "You look really good out here," he said. "I mean, not that you look bad in there, just...the fresh air, change of scenery."

"It's nice," she said, smiling. "Makes me feel like an actual person again, you know what I mean? Not some sort of experiment living in a controlled environment."

"It's a good sign," Wylie said. "They're letting you out here because you're finally improving. You know, every time I talk to one of the guys, even Shorty, they always mention what a fighter you are."

"Well of course I am," she said. "That's why I kicked your butt every time we played anything Real Time Strategy."

"There's a difference between losing and getting your butt kicked," Wylie protested.

"But one _can_ experience both simultaneously." She laughed as he rolled his eyes, a smile coming over his own face. "We didn't get to have our geeky date," she said suddenly, looking forlorn. "You know we'd have crushed them being on the same team."

"I think it would have been pretty sweet," Wylie agreed.

"Yeah," she said. "It would have been." She cocked her head and smiled. "You know we've been spending time together every day for weeks and it's never come up that you asked me out just hours before I was shot?"

"You know how happy I was when you said yes?"

"You know how excited _I_ was?" Vega said. "I even asked Cho for advice on our way to that diner."

Wylie blinked. "You did? _Cho_?"

"Well, he's who was around," she said. "He wasn't incredibly helpful, aside from telling me to have fun and warning me that he was not interested in the details on Monday."

"Sounds like Cho," Wylie said. He looked at her sideways, almost embarrassed to say, "_I_ actually asked Abbot for advice."

"No way!" Vega grinned. "What did he say?"

"That we should just try to have fun. That...that the hard part was over. Because you said 'yes'. And he's right; that was the hard part, actually asking you."

Vega blinked, then tipped her head. "I said 'yes' because...I'd made a firm promise to myself that I wouldn't be distracted by anything, but...I'm constantly confused over how much I like you." _Even now._ "And I figured, why not? Why not give this thing a try? Why not see where it goes?" _And I still wish we'd had that chance._

Wylie's smile got bigger, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. He closed it, then he reached over and took her hand, looking down at it as he did so, curling his fingers slowly and deliberately through hers. They'd been doing this since they'd been reunited, but when their eyes met again, Vega almost had to look away to hide her blush, unable to handle the way he was looking at her. Then she cocked her head, furrowing her brow as she regarded him.

"Is something wrong?" Wylie asked, confused at her sudden change of expression.

Vega bit her lip. "You tell me."

"What?"

She scooted closer. "_Close your eyes, Wylie_."

* * *

Wylie was surprised to find her lips on his own, so surprised he kept his eyes open. The kiss lasted only a second or two, then Vega pulled back and opened her eyes to look at him. How he felt about what she'd done must have reflected on his face, because she grinned and exhaled sharply in a relieved little laugh. He tipped his head to the side ever so slightly, and she took his face in her hands and put her lips back on his, holding him in place.

Wylie slid his arms around her, shifting his weight. Her hands went to his chest, her lips insistent, pushing against his mouth in a request for more. He obliged and she exhaled audibly, heavily. He moved his hands to her shoulders, then to her neck, then rested them on her back, unsure of how he wanted to hold her. She suddenly wanted his fingers in her hair and chided herself for having it up in its usual strict ponytail. She put her arms back around his neck, ensuring the smallest possible distance between them. His arms found their place wrapped around her waist.

Vega had been kissed _plenty_ in her lifetime, by almost any standards, but it had been years since the last one. She'd been working too hard to date, and she didn't believe one night stands would do her career any good either. Since she'd entered the armed forces at eighteen, she'd pushed that part of life away any time it presented itself. She'd put all of herself into her career and never regretted it, not for single second, until she spent those hours lying awake and alone in the hospital, not knowing if she was going to survive, believing either way she would never see Wylie again and wondering what might have happened with them.

Now they were alone, she was outside for the first time in almost two months, she was in his arms and his mouth was pushing against hers, wanting a deeper kiss even though there wasn't much farther they could take it. Her heart was racing, pounding, and that was something that the doctors had wanted to prevent, but Vega couldn't imagine anything about this being bad for her. Her medicine, her exercises, her therapy, those things felt _difficult, painful, stressful._ This felt _good_.

She didn't know how long they kissed. By the time they pulled back and looked at each other Ford could have come out and told them days had passed and Vega would have believed her. Nothing else had happened – his arms were still around her midsection, hers were still around his neck, their lips had gone nowhere but the mouth of the other. Vega didn't mind at all. She'd gone so long – and been through so much – since the last time she was romantically intimate with anyone at all, that simply spending those minutes wrapped up in _Wylie_'s arms with her mouth on his made her feel incredibly fulfilled. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck and slid her arms just under his. A little part of her was asking _what are you doing?_ She ignored it.

"It's getting dark," she noted, looking up at him as her surroundings slowly came back into focus.

His eyes were locked on hers. "Is it?"

The intensity in those eyes made her shudder. "I mean...I-I think so." She pressed her lips together. "It _is_ getting later, and..."

"We should go inside," Wylie said, breaking his eyes away from her gaze to look back at the door from which they'd come.

Vega nodded. "Yeah."

As he wheeled her back out of the courtyard, back up the ramps, back around the corners, back to her room, Vega suddenly wondered how to say goodbye to him this time. They'd just kissed – a lot – and they couldn't just act as if it hadn't happened. She didn't _want_ to act as if it hadn't happened. But at the same time...what did this make them? They saw each other only within the walls of a secret military hospital. She would be leaving in probably just a few weeks for an unknown location, with a new life and probably with a new name. They usually parted for the night with a smile, a hug, maybe a squeeze of the hand. What on Earth did she do tonight?

She got up out of the wheelchair and into bed – where she normally remained until morning after Wylie left. As usual, he sat on the edge, looking down at her, but for the first time since the first day, he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Wylie," she said. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For making this so _complicated_," she said, putting her hands over her face.

"It's not complicated," Wylie said. "At least...I'm pretty sure of where I stand."

"It's not _that_," she said, looking up at him with a pained expression. "It's just...I don't know what's going to happen."

He shrugged. "Well, no one does. Don't make simple things complicated, Michelle."

"You make complicated things _too_ simple." She cocked her head. "Wylie, if I was only out there with everyone."

He cocked his head. "If that made a difference, then why did you kiss me?"

It was a fair question. "I..." Vega sighed. "I wanted to."

"You're not going to hurt me, Michelle," Wylie said, reaching for one of her hands. "I know the situation near as well as you."

"What would we even be _doing_?" She said. "Dating? We can't go anywhere. In a relationship? That sounds so odd considering I have no idea where I'll be in a month."

"How about this," Wylie said. "We're not dating. We're not in a relationship. We're _together_."

"Together." The smile that was had been threatening to creep across her face finally won. "I like that."

"Okay then," Wylie said, smiling. "Together."

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Also, if you haven't yet, check out "Broken Winged Bird" by FoxPhile, her own Wega Wednesday contribution! (And yes, Heidi, I did borrow some Mac/Harm dialogue here. You probably know I regret nothing.)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Alright, here is another important chapter! No Wylie in this one, but he's back in chapter nineteen! Thanks to everyone reviewing so far, it thrills me to death that people are enjoying this fic.**

* * *

"We really do appreciate your willingness to keep the true nature of this facility under wraps," Angela said, letting Cho out of her office. "As well as your surveillance of the suspect individuals that could threaten the work we do here. I trust you will keep us posted?"

"We will provide you with updates as they happen," Cho said. "Though we can do more for you if you reveal Patient Tacoma's identity."

"That is not going to happen," she said firmly. "Patient Tacoma's existence is highly classified. We have provided you with their location and extensive blueprints of the facility to better learn the best ways in or out. That is all we can give you."

"Alright," Cho said. "Just remember that any detail, no matter how small, can help or hinder us in our investigation. And an identity is no small detail."

"I'm sorry," Angela said. "We are accepting your aid. That does not mean we are working together."

"I'm only telling you," Cho said, putting his hands on his hips. "I'd feel a lot better about putting my people at risk if I knew exactly what's going on here."

"And we'd feel a lot better if our people weren't at risk," Angela said, "but things don't always go the way you want them to."

Cho raised his eyebrows.

"You want proof that we're doing good work?" Angela said. "That we've got only good intentions? That you can trust us?"

"You can provide that?" Cho said, crossing his arms.

Angela's eyes bore into him. "Sub-wing B. Room number four."

* * *

Wylie's claims about her still being alive were in his mind as he located sub-wing B _ah, the 'secret hallway' he'd been going on about_ but his first thought as he opened the door was that Angela had relented and decided to give him the identity of Patient Tacoma. He was wondering if perhaps it was someone he'd known – an old member of the CBI that was on the run, perhaps? Agent Fillmore, Agent Hightower?

He pushed the door open and stopped cold.

For a moment he thought he was going mad – for a moment he understood why Wylie had thought that this woman was her. It was when she looked up from where she sat on the couch that he realized that his brain _wasn't_ playing tricks on him.

Their eyes focused on one another, both surprised, both seemingly unable to speak or move. Her eyes were larger than he remembered – he wondered if seeing him brought back memories that her brain had previously succeeded in blocking out. Seeing _her_, however, had the opposite effect. His memory of her, whatever one he'd tried to conjure up, always ended up being flooded with her terrified eyes, with the blood on her clothes, with the pained cry she'd let out when he'd put pressure on her wound...and with the lifeless expression on her face as he gazed down on her in the hospital bed.

He sucked in a deep breath. He let it out. He tried to think of something to say, something professional, something matter of fact, something that he would say. He struggled to form words.

And then Kimball Cho forgot himself.

He moved rapidly across the room, dropping to his knees in front of her, sliding his arms under hers and pulling her to him, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from leaking out. She hesitantly hugged him back, her arms over his shoulders.

In any other situation, Cho would be glad that no one had a view of his face as he held her, because he knew it was contorted with emotion. In this case, however, he didn't care. Not in the slightest. All that mattered was somehow the struggling woman he'd held in his arms two months ago had unbelievably won the fight for her life. He didn't care how it had happened, and although the FBI leader in Cho hated him for it, he didn't blame Wylie at all for keeping this secret.

"_Michelle,_" he whispered in disbelief, rocking her back and forth. Both arms still around her, one of his hands came up to his face, pressing against his eyes in an attempt at control. He held her out at arm's length. "You're alive..."

She had tears in her eyes too, but she smiled. "Sir. Funny story..."

* * *

When Cho drew her close, Vega almost burst into tears. Seeing him, she remembered. She remembered the shooter rapidly changing position. She'd thought he was running. She'd stood to get a better shot at his back, when he'd whirled around...

...then she was on the floor. People were gasping, watching her, none of them moving to call an ambulance. She was feeling around for her phone, her shirt was sticking to her and she felt dizzy and _it hurt_ and she remembered knowing that she had to call for help but simultaneously feeling very confused.

But as Cho held her, the flooding memories didn't overwhelm her. She remembered him lifting her, getting her upper body elevated to prevent any tainted blood from being able to rush to her heart. She remembered him trying to stop the bleeding. She remembered him telling her she'd done a good job and she remembered believing that she'd be okay because Kimball Cho told her that she would be and he knew things.

She'd been gathered into his arms and that didn't leave her much room to move, but she hugged him back as best as she could. The look on his face when he drew back to regard her was unsettling – she wasn't used to Kimball Cho showing emotion at all, not beyond the occasional badly hidden smirk when she'd done something amusing. She smiled, hoping to relieve him. "Sir. Funny story..."

"Oh God," he said under his breath, as if the sound of her voice was about to unleash more tears. He shook his head. "Michelle, you are a wonder."

_A wonder. _"I do my best, sir," she said.

* * *

"Really?"

Lisbon rolled over, squinting at the clock. Cho had told her not to come in until after lunch, when he'd already met with the director of the FWTC and had a game plan for their next move. It was eleven thirty. "Jane, who is it?"

Her husband held up a hand to silence her as he continued to listen to the chatter on the other end of the phone. "Wow, that's...I've seen a lot of incredible things in my...yes, yes of course. Does he know you know? Great. Yes, I will let her know. Yes, later."

"Jane?"

He set the phone down on top of her jacket – only then did she realize the phone call had been for her and he must have answered it when she stayed asleep. "Jane, who was that?"

"It was Cho," Jane said, sitting down on the bed.

"What did he want?"

"Well, there's been what you would probably call an unexpected development, although I must remind you, I didn't brush the idea off as impossible..."

"What happened?"

Jane looked down at her. "Remember when you told me you wanted to believe Vega was someplace?"


	19. Chapter 19

**New chapter time! Here we meet Agent Kemper and Wega gets pretty real pretty fast.**

Lisbon was suspicious. "So she just...marched you right in?"

Cho nodded. "I think shock value's what she was going for. But look, as much as Vega feels like the most important thing to all of us right now – as much as she _may be _so – we still have a job to do. That facility does incredible work – we now know exactly what they are capable of – and it's extremely important to keep the secret while protecting the identities of some of the individuals inside."

"But they won't tell you who these people are." Jane said, folding his arms.

"From what they've told me, Vega is currently one of their least secretive patients. And she's an FBI agent."

"Damn." Lisbon shook her head. "But Vega, you...you actually _saw _her."

Cho nodded. "She's alive. We buried some humidifiers." He leaned forward in his chair, then his eyes moved from Jane and Lisbon to the door. "Agent Kemper."

Theophilia Kemper had made it all the way to the door of Cho's office without attracting attention from any of them – something that was surprising to all of them. She was close to six feet tall, muscular, and had her red hair was cropped close to her head in a buzz cut. She had a jagged scar on her chin, and she looked much younger than twenty six. "Good morning, sir."

"Morning." Cho rose. "Jane, Lisbon, this is Theophilia Kemper, our new rookie. Kemper, Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon."

Jane extended his hand. "Please do not call me sir."

She cocked her head. "Pardon me?"

"He doesn't like to be called 'sir'," Lisbon said, shaking her hand. "So I save it for when I'm angry with him."

Jane motioned between him and Lisbon. "We're married."

"Oh, good for you," Kemper said, nodding and looking slightly uncomfortable. "Boss, I understand you are in the middle of an investigation and I am needed in the field."

"Yes," Cho said. "Lisbon will take you to your desk, and once you are prepared, the three of us are heading out to pick up some surveillance footage of a couple of drug stores in Mississippi."

"We are driving to Mississippi?"

"The tapes have been shipped. We're picking them up from the border."

"That needs three of us?" Lisbon questioned.

"There are interviews that also need to be conducted while we're there," Cho said. "We want to close this as quickly as possible and that may require trying to force this guy's hand."

Lisbon smiled at Kemper. "Come with me, Agent."

* * *

"You can call me Theo," she said as the two women headed out into the bullpen. "I've never gone by my last name. Everyone usually changes to my first on account of my youthful appearance."

"What do you prefer?" Lisbon asked.

"Theo is fine." She looked at the desk Lisbon had stopped in front of. "Is this me?"

Lisbon nodded. "Yes. It is now."

Theo turned to face her. "Was this Agent Vega's place?"

"It has been several agents' desks in its time," Lisbon said. "It is yours now. We want you to feel welcome here."

"Thank you," Theo said, smiling. "I appreciate that. Ma'am, can I say something?"

"Of course."

"I was adopted when I was eleven years old. Three weeks after it became official, my adoptive parents' biological son passed away suddenly. I am used to coming into a situation where there is grief."

"We're coping," Lisbon said. "And we are happy to have you with us. I've looked at your file. You have impressive training scores."

"Thank you," she said. "I've always wanted to be an agent, and when I finally got the opportunity, I had to give one hundred and ten percent."

"You initially started in another area of work?" Lisbon asked. _We don't discuss our personal lives in the unit_, she had told Grace Van Pelt more than a decade before. She almost laughed at the memory. How different she was now. How different they _all _were.

"I had a baby when I was nineteen," Theo said. "She had some health problems at the beginning, and then was diagnosed with a learning disability. She just entered full time school in the past year, and that's when I was able to pursue a career in the FBI. Family comes first."

"Absolutely," Lisbon said. "I raised three brothers, I know how that goes."

Theo smiled. "You know, I'd heard of you and Patrick Jane before coming here."

Lisbon's eyebrows shot up. "You did?"

"Sure. Sacramento. Red John."

Lisbon was a bit taken aback. "That...that's right."

"If I may be so honest, Agent Lisbon," Theo said, looking away for a moment, "it was your old boss, Minelli, that inspired me to go into law enforcement. I saw footage on YouTube of him at a press conference...the way he was so passionate about not only what his team was doing, but how he felt about the people he worked with...it instilled something in me, ma'am."

* * *

"Well? Jane asked as he and Lisbon got in the elevator to head to the parking lot. "What do you think of Kemper?"

"I like her," Lisbon said firmly. "I like her a lot."

* * *

Wylie walked into Vega's room with a smile on his face, but it was gone before she even had time to make eye contact with him. "Oh my God, Michelle, what happened?"

She was lying in bed, looking weaker than he'd ever seen her. An I.V. was in her arm and there were circles under her eyes.

He rushed to her side, taking her hand and encircling it with both of his. "What happened?" he repeated.

"Had a bad night," she said. "It's nothing. Don't worry."

She looked down at their hands, and Wylie realized how hard he'd been squeezing hers. "Talk to me."

She sighed. "Last night something in the food didn't agree with me. I vomited a couple of times, and the strain partially reopened the wound. Nothing serious!" she said quickly in response to the look on his face. "Not like...not like the entire bullet's path, just the front part. They think something was wrong with the food, but they couldn't pump my stomach because, well, they can't risk it."

"But this isn't...you aren't...I mean..."

"I'll be okay," she said. "They closed me right up and in a little bit they'll come take out the I.V. I'm just really tired." She offered him a smile. "Back to normal by tomorrow though, mark my words! They even let me keep the bra."

Wylie smiled. "If I'd known I'd have come."

"They wouldn't have let you in," Vega said. "I don't know the other patients, but I'm fairly certain you being able to just walk in, stop by the front desk, and meander down to my room _during _our visiting hours is a pretty privileged thing." She carefully – much more deliberately than he'd seen her move in weeks, shifted over to the far side of her bed and patted the empty space. "Lay with me?"

"That'll be a tight fit," he said with concern.

"It'll work. Come on." She eased herself onto her side, wincing slightly.

"Be careful!"

"I'm just a little sore," she said. "It's okay."

Wylie climbed carefully onto the bed, worried somehow he'd overbalance them. He shifted onto his side, facing her, and she scooted closer to him awkwardly, trying not to jostle the I.V. or her new injury. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"I asked specifically."

Wylie smiled. "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh." She let out a deep breath, closing her eyes. He took her hands again, hating how exhausted he was but not knowing what he could do about it. He'd run out of stories about Big Vel.

"Wylie?"

"Hmm?"

"How is the case coming?"

_Don't worry about that,_ was on the tip of Wylie's tongue, but he stopped himself from vocalizing them. Maybe she could help them – and maybe feeling like she was helping would do her good. "It's alright. We're still tracking the activity of a few suspicious people. We're at a standstill until anything happens, though. Cho has been out a lot. Took Agent Lisbon and Agent Kemper with him today."

"How is she?"

"She's very nice," Wylie said. "She's easy to get along with."

"That's good," Vega said. "Here I was thinking my replacement might have horns."

Wylie wasn't sure if she was resentful or joking. Her face didn't give a clue. She just looked _tired._

"I don't suppose you have any idea who Patient Tacoma is."

"Not a clue," Vega said. "They're incredibly secretive about their high profile patients."

"So an FBI agent isn't considered high profile?" Wylie raised an eyebrow.

"They did have code speak for me the first couple of weeks. But in the end, I wasn't a targeted shooting and there were no rumors about me still being alive, so once the funeral happened and everything began to wind down on the outside, I was referred to by name within the facility."

"What was your...name?" Wylie wanted to know.

"Patient Greenleaf," Vega said. "I was born on the Greenleaf Point peninsula – Buzzard's Point. There's an Army post there, Fort McNair. My father was in D.C. meeting with the vice chief of staff that week."

"Huh," Wylie said.

"What?"

"We'd been operating under the assumption that Patient Tacoma was given that name due to some instance in the city," Wylie said. "So we were looking into altercations involving officers and military personnel in that area, within the past few months. But whoever Patient Tacoma is, they might not have any connection to Washington other than being born there."

"What sort of person is so high profile that the FBI isn't able to know, even to try and protect them? They must have some important information."

"D.B. Cooper?" Wylie suggested with a smirk.

Vega laughed. "Do you think knowing his or her identity will help you?"

"Honestly, I don't," Wylie said. "Because we already think we know who is after them, and it's just a matter of intercepting them when they get close."

"I could be useful," Vega said quietly, looking frustrated. "I wish I was out there."

"Oh," Wylie said quickly, "you're helping us." She raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "You are," he said. "You've given us information about the facility, I know your presence here has given us ease of access, and..." he shrugged. "And I've been able to focus better, sleep better, everything, since I found out you were here."

She smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He stretched his neck out ever so slightly so their foreheads touched. "Is it to early in _together _for me to say finding you here was one of the best things that's ever happened to me?"

"Is it too early for me to say you're probably the best thing that's happened to me?"

Wylie raised his eyebrows, pulling back from her slightly. "Whoa."

She smiled at him, looking nervous. "Too much?"

"No," Wylie said quickly. "No. No, I just..." his cheeks turned pink. "I wasn't expecting that." He grinned. "Why is it you always end up out-doing me?"

She giggled. Wylie leaned closer and kissed her, feeling her smile against his lips. "Feel any better?"

"Yes." Vega nodded. "Very much."

There was a rapping at the door, and Wylie and Vega looked up to see Ford entering. "Sorry," the nurse said apologetically. "I just need to take out the I.V."

Vega rolled onto her back - she just fit - and held out her arm. Ford slipped out the I.V. and stuck on a bandage. "Can I see your stomach, please?"

Vega squirmed, trying to shift her gown. "Hang on," Wylie said, sitting up and sliding off the bed. Vega eased her arms out of her gown and slid it down. "Good," Ford said. "Everything looks very well. Were you able to sleep at all?"

She shook her head.

"We can give you something to help you, if you'd like."

"No," Vega said. "I don't want more meds." She glanced at Wylie. "They make me fuzzy on things."

"I know," Ford said. "I know that scares you. But mild sleep aids don't generally cause memory problems."

Vega sighed. "I just..."

She looked at Wylie again, and he cocked his head. "Would...would it be possible for me to stay?" he asked. He saw her eyes light up. "On the couch," Wylie said when Ford furrowed her brow. "Just so she's not alone."

Ford folded her arms, thinking. "I'll talk to Angela."

* * *

**Next chapter will be up tomorrow or Sunday - stuff is going to get pretty intense (at least, that's the plan) and an old character returns!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Breaking up the chapters a little differently than I expected to, so some events are being pushed back to the next update. I was asked this earlier - I'm expecting five more chapters, but it all depends on how things end up fitting in and how I break events up.**

* * *

To Wylie and Vega's surprise, Angela granted his request to stay in the room that night, but this allowance was not made without strict instructions. "You are not to leave the room. At night we activate the sensors on the doors and a key card is required for entry. If you leave the room, security will be told and you will be escorted off the premises without the possibility of returning. She knows how to get ahold of a member of the overnight staff should she need anything."

"Thank you."

Angela and Ford dimmed the lights and bid the agents farewell. Vega pulled herself into a sitting position and tipped her head toward Wylie and raised her eyebrows. "I should warn you. It's been a while since I've spent the night with anyone."

Wylie's eyeroll was hidden as there was a sudden popping noise and the room was flooded in darkness. Wylie jumped. "Oh my God, the suspect is here!"

"The lightbulb went out." Vega's voice was devoid of any concern, and Wylie felt a bit stupid. "It's right above your head. There should be a spare in the little drawer by the couch."

Wylie reached out, locating the couch and creeping along it, finding the drawer on the other side. Locating a light bulb, he rose, reaching out and up. He found the light bulb. "Yikes, that's hot."

"It does its best," Vega joked. There was a silence, and the room remained almost completely dark. "Wylie?"

"I'm working on it." He couldn't get the lightbulb straight.

"How many computer nerds does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" she asked.

"None," Wylie said. "That's a problem for janitorial staff."

"Don't make me get up and do it."

"Ah ha!" Wylie exclaimed as light flooded the room. He grinned at Vega. "I think I just leveled up."

She laughed. "You're adorable."

"Adorable in a _good_ way, right?"

"Adorable in a 'come over here so I can kiss you' way," Vega said, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.

Wylie sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her. She leaned forward slightly, sliding her arms around his neck. Wylie smiled at her. Even exhausted and weak, she was pretty. Her spirit and resolve made her that way...and the way she was looking at him certainly didn't hurt.

Their lips met. His arms crept around her waist as he scooted forward, pulling himself closer to her. She moved her hands to the sides of his face and leaned farther forward, pushing her mouth against his with a force that made him lean slightly backward.

_You're not out-doing me this time._

Vega was surprised when Wylie pushed back, and suddenly found herself having to keep her hands on his face just to stop herself from falling backward against her pillow. And then, realizing her abs – what was left of them, anyway – were working to keep her precarious position, she did.

Wylie looked startled. "Are you okay?"

She gestured to her stomach. "Muscle strain. Don't want to risk it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She slid her hand under her gown, checking her bandages. They were dry and in place. "We're good." She motioned for him to lean down to her. "C'mere."

They ended up both on their sides on the bed, her hands resting on his hips and his curled around her. Vega remembered reading something, a year or two back, about how kissing was actually very healthy, and did wonders for stress levels, and that kissing brought couples closer even more so than sleeping together did. She recalled being completely disinterested in the information. After all, she hadn't had an intimate encounter with anyone since her first week at West Point - gosh, her father would have been so embarrassed if she and what's-his-name had been caught – and it was that moment that had made her decide _no_. No relationships. No flings. No feelings. She'd thrown herself into her education, and it hadn't taken long for her to realize that she really, truly had lost interest in that whole side of the coin. Then Wylie had come along, and everything with him felt so natural, so easy. If she'd been told upon being relayed the information about kissing that within the year she'd be curled up in the arms of a co – worker she would have rolled her eyes. Yet, here they were, and if had she not been injured, they probably would have gone a lot further than making out by now.

Or...or maybe not. After all, the entire reason they were in this room right now was because she had been shot. Yes, they had planned to go on a date that morning, but...who knew where it would have gone? Who knew how slow she would have convinced herself that they needed to take things?

Wylie breathed her name and she shuddered, loving the way it sounded, realizing that it didn't matter where they would be in however many _what if _scenarios. They were here, he was holding her close, and she was feeling..._so much_.

"Together," she whispered against his lips, and Wylie stopped kissing her to rest his forehead against hers. "Together," he said. Even at the angle, she could tell he was smiling.

"Wylie?"

"Hmmm?"

Vega leaned back a little, opening her mouth but remaining silent as she looked at him. "I think, I mean..." He cocked his head. She cleared her throat and took in a deep breath. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Vega couldn't hold back her grin. She knew – as well as anyone can know without being told – that he felt the same things for her that she did for him. It was clear as day in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, and the way that he came to visit, day after day, no matter how tired or stressed he was from work. But hearing it, actually hearing it, with no reservations...Vega snuggled up to him, feeling his chin rest on the top of her head, and let out a contented sigh.

"Uh," Wylie said, "I think Angela and Ford expected me to sleep on the couch, so I'd better..."

She couldn't see his face when she swatted his arm, but she knew he was smiling.

* * *

Wylie wasn't sure what roused him from his sleep, but he wasn't alarmed – not at first. The hospital bed was a bit cramped with the two of them, but he hadn't really noticed – there was no time to think about having room to roll over when he had Michelle Vega nestled in his arms, her hair let down, sleeping soundly for the first time in at least the past few nights.

_She loves me_, was his first thought. Then a better one – _we love each other_.

The door to her room flew open, and Wylie jumped, looking over his shoulder. Walking toward them was a man he had never seen before, and he was instantly on alert. Sensing the tension in his body, Vega stirred.

"You're Agent Jason Wylie?" the man asked.

"Who are you?" Wylie asked suspiciously.

Vega sleepily looked over Wylie at the man. "Nurse Hannigan?"

"Nurse Hannigan," he confirmed, nodding. "You are Wylie?"

Wylie sat up. "Yes."

"What's going on?" Vega said, and Wylie realized there was commotion somewhere beyond the room.

"One of the suspects we believe is looking for this facility has crossed the border into Texas. The team assigned to track his movements has lost sight of him. We are preparing to go into lockdown."

"Oh my God," Vega said.

"We've informed your team," Hannigan told Wylie, "and they are assembling. We've been told that you are currently off duty?"

"Yes," Wylie said.

"We are unable to transport the patients out before we have to be locked in. You, however, came by your own car, and therefore you have a choice. It needs to be made right now. You can leave. If you choose to stay, you must remain within these walls until the situation is dealt with, no matter what risks may come about. And you stay entirely at your own risk. Should anyone enter this facility, our primary concern is our patients."

"Okay," Wylie said, nodding.

Hannigan raised his eyebrows. "Is that an in, or an out?"

"It's an in."


	21. Chapter 21

"And you said Jane drives too fast," Cho said as the car tires squealed in their effort to make the turn.

"You told me to get there as fast as possible," Lisbon said, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. "And like Hell we're going to be too late."

"We'll get there," Cho said. "We have to." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "You okay back there, Agent?"

Theo was slightly green. "I had morning sickness for two months, sir. This is nothing!"

"If you do have to hurl, roll down the window," Lisbon said.

"Yes ma'am."

Cho's phone rang, and he hurriedly answered it. "Hey. Are you there? Great. We really appreciate it. Yep. About fifteen minutes now. Alright. Bye."

"Who was that?" Lisbon asked.

Cho opened his mouth to answer, but then the phone rang again. This time, when he hung up his expression was much tenser.

Lisbon glanced at him. "Boss?"

Cho set his jaw. "Someone has breached security. There's at least three men inside the FWTC. There's been gunfire. We have no safe access to the building."

* * *

Lisbon threw the car in park and the three agents jumped out, racing toward the small crowd of people standing just beyond the fence of the FWTC. "What's happening?" Cho asked.

The woman who turned to him was Angela. "Agent Cho. Thank God."

"What are you doing out here?" Lisbon wanted to know.

"We determined that a small batch of bad food that came in here the other day was planted on one of our trucks. I went out to investigate and consider the possibility of removing Patients Tacoma and Houghton on one of our stock trucks." She raised an eyebrow in Lisbon's direction, "as we now have reason to believe that is how your people infiltrated our system in the first place." She pressed her lips together. "That's when the gunfire started, it..." she shook her head. "It all happened so fast, I...I don't..." She was clearly rattled.

"We're here now," Cho said, "and we're going to do our best. We've got two of our people in there as well, so you know we're invested. And I've called in some help..." Cho's eyes shifted. "And she's here now."

Lisbon turned – and despite the situation smiled. "Kim!"

Fischer grinned. "Hey, Teresa," she said, offering the other woman a hug. "Congratulations, girl."

"Oh, thanks," Lisbon said, hugging her back. "How's your mom?"

"She's doing okay," Fischer said. "Her goddaughter is staying with her while I come help you guys out."

"We really appreciate it," Cho said, nodding to her. "Good to see you."

"What can I do?"

"Right now our best option is to try and negotiate with the shooters," Cho said. "See what they want, try and help anyone who may be injured."

"We know what they want," Angela said, tearing up. "They want Patient Tacoma! They want Patient Tacoma's information!"

"Ma'am," Fischer said. "We're going to need you to calm down. Where are the entrances to this building? Where could he have gotten in?"

"He went right in the front door," Angela said. "He shot at me – three times – then disappeared inside. Then...I heard so many gunshots."

"Where is Vega's room?" Lisbon asked Cho.

"Nowhere near the front," Cho said. "She is back by the Northeast entrance."

"Yes," Angela said, frowning after a moment. Cho did not elaborate on how they knew about that entrance. "If only we'd locked down faster."

"No way you could have known," Lisbon said, looking at the building. She couldn't tell if the fluttering in her stomach was nerves or the baby kicking. If it was the latter, than he or she had inherited their father's bad timing.

* * *

The agents in Wylie and Vega wanted to rush out of the room at the first sounds of gunshots being fired, but it was the agents in them that prevented those actions. They didn't know where or how many shooters there were, they had no weapons, and they weren't even overly familiar with the hospital's layout. It would not be smart to engage at this point...but it was time to prepare.

"Security _is_ out there," Wylie said. "They have some decent guns."

"They don't have the kind of guns that make the noises we just heard," Vega said. They were both standing by the door – not the safest place to be, but the easiest way to hear what was going on. "How many of them do you think there are?"

"More than one," Wylie said.

"Wow, thanks, that helps," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "My guess is there's three."

"Why's that?"

"I dunno," she said. "I just feel like there's usually three."

"Well, the FBI should be proud of the educated observations we're making," Wylie joked. He looked at Vega, his expression growing serious. "Michelle..."

"We'll be okay," she said, curling her arms around one of his. "We will."

They both jumped as Wylie's phone rang. "Silence that!" Vega hissed.

Instead, Wylie answered it. "Lisbon?"

"Wylie!" Her voice sounded frantic. "Where are you? Are you with Vega?"

"Yes, yes, we're in her room," Wylie said in a whisper. "Listen, the FWTC's been compromised, there's..."

"Three men," Lisbon said, "we know, we're outside. We can't get in, the doors seem to have explosives set up."

"Who are these people?" Wylie said.

"We don't know," Lisbon said. "Listen, you guys need to stay safe. Don't try to engage. We are working on getting inside."

"But..."

"Neither of you are armed. Leave it to the security forces," Lisbon said. "Please, Wylie. Just stay safe. We have contact with two of the security guards. They're trying to regain control and keep the men away from the computer logs. _Stay safe_, Wylie."

"Hurry," Wylie said. He hung up the phone and shakily returned it to his pocket.

"Well?"

"Three men. Hush," he said when she grinned triumphantly. "They're probably going for Patient Tacoma."

"We have to stop them," Vega said, sounding as if there was no other option.

"No," Wylie said. "No, we don't. The security guards are out there, they have guns, they know the facility. Lisbon told us to stay safe."

"We're FBI agents," Vega said. "We're resourceful. We have a duty to protect."

"We're also unarmed and you're wounded...but we're not going to let that stop us," he amended when he saw her set her jaw.

Suddenly there was more gunfire – and it was close. Vega pushed Wylie away from the door, both of them dropping to the ground.

"That's right outside!" he hissed.

"Probably at the hallway intersection," she whispered.

The shooting continued for several more seconds, and then there was no sound other than heavy footsteps running, rapidly growing quieter.

Vega rose. "Let's go."

Wylie got to his feet, biting his lip. "We have to be really careful, okay?"

She nodded, giving him a smile. "We will be." She stepped close to him, putting her hands on his elbows and looking up at him. "Wylie...if anything were to happen...I'm glad I spent the rest of my life with you."

Tears were threatening to spring to his eyes, but Wylie managed a smile, just for her. "Me too," he said quietly. "Me too."

Vega rose on her tiptoes and kissed him, then took in and let out a deep breath. "You ready?"

He nodded, and she opened the door, peeking out. She was met with the usual dim hallway. Walking out into the hall, she put her back against the wall, sliding along it. Wylie followed her a moment later. When Vega reached the main hallway, she staggered backwards a step, right into Wylie. He instinctively put his hands on her sides to steady her. "What is it?"

She turned and looked at him, wide eyed, then crept back out into the hallway. Wylie followed her. "Oh my God."

The hallway was a battlefield. Broken medical equipment was strewn about, punctured I.V. bags made the floor treacherous. And then there were...

"Shorty," Wylie said, the nearest body that of one of the security guards that he'd encountered the day he and Vega had reunited. The man was on his back, six bullet holes in his chest and abdomen.

Vega walked over to him, momentarily forgetting to look down the hall for any possible threats. She stood over the body, one hand on her heart, the other over her wound – one of Shorty's was in the exact same place. Then she dropped to her knees, reaching inside his coat. Rising, she turned to Wylie and showed him the gun she'd retrieved. "Score."

Wylie cleared his throat and nodded. "Who..." he looked at the four other bodies, farther down the hall. "Who..."

They walked along the hall, noting one more security guard and a young man in a hospital gown – one of Vega's fellow patients. Two of the bodies were a man and a woman dressed in all black, bullet proof vests on, both having apparently died from head injuries. Two of the shooters. The third man was...

"Oh my God," Vega said, putting a hand to her mouth as she rolled the body over to reveal Nurse Jaimie, a single bullet hole just above his left eye. She dropped to her knees, his blood soaking into the bottom of her gown. "Oh my God." She let herself grieve a moment longer, then got up. "We have to split up."

Wylie wanted to protest – but he knew exactly what she had in mind, and they couldn't afford to waste time. "I'll go to their main computer room, try and scramble the information so the third shooter so they can't find Patient Tacoma."

"I'll find the third shooter," Vega said. She reached out her hand, and Wylie grabbed it, squeezing hard while they looked at each other. She gave him a nod, and he nodded back. "Let's do this."

Wylie jogged down the hall toward the room he'd spent most of his time in during his first visit to the FWTC what seemed like a lifetime ago. Vega, her back still to the wall, headed down the main hallway toward the center of the building, where the most secretive patients were being held.


	22. Chapter 22

**Happy Wega Wednesday everyone! Slight business to take care of before this update - first of all, FoxPhile has updated "Broken Winged Bird" and y'all should go read it. Second of all, I have started a new Wega fic "Take Me" that I would love if people checked out. It will be a multi-chapter fic.**

**Some have asked again how much longer this fic will be (I can't believe it is a month old tomorrow!) and the current plan is still three chapters, but there may end up being four more. We shall see.**

* * *

Wylie's hands flew over the keyboard, doing his best to, as Vega had dared shout over her shoulder at him, "_mess things up_."

His phone rang. It was Lisbon. He put it to his ear. "Hello?"

Nothing. It was either a pocket dial or something had gone wrong. Wylie shoved the phone back into his pocket. He was not terribly familiar with the computer system they were using, and he wasn't sure he could keep on creating fake directories fast enough.

_But I have to. So I will._

At the very least, he could make the gunman's objective take longer.

* * *

Lisbon hated to cry. Especially when on the job. As absolutely overjoyed she was at the chance to be a mother after all these years, as unbelievably happy as she was to be doing this with _Jane_, she did hate – flat out hate – how overemotional she got. She was glad that Theo was taking a complete statement from Angela so the rookie wouldn't see.

"It's not overreacting," Fischer said comfortingly, watching Lisbon watch Cho pace in frustration. Lisbon didn't know how she knew...or maybe it wasn't all that surprising. She and Fischer were a lot alike. "Wylie is our friend," Fischer continued. "Plus, I know finding out Agent Vega is alive...and now there's this killer..." she shook her head. "God Teresa, you're not weak. You're strong as Hell."

Teresa looked at her, giving a small smile. "Thanks, Kim."

"Where is Jane?" Fischer asked.

Lisbon shook her head. "Not working today."

"You aren't going to call him?"

"He worries. We can handle this." She looked back toward the building, her voice threatening to break, but she kept it together. "We're stuck out here, but we've got two good agents inside."

Fischer nodded, stepping closer to Lisbon and reaching out her hand. Lisbon grabbed it and squeezed hard.

* * *

Vega crept along the side hallway, back in full agent mode. Shorty's gun had, from the moment she picked it up, instilled a confidence and calm in her that she didn't realize that she still had. Her muscles were exhausted, and all this use just might set her back in recovery, but as she stole along toward the security desk, she didn't feel any pain, any fatigue. What she did feel was like herself. This is what she was supposed to do.

"_¿Qué está pasando?"_

Vega jumped, whirling around, and pointing the gun toward the sound, which turned out to be coming from a small, thin woman in hospital garb peering through a broken glass window. At Vega's reaction, she held her hands up. "_No dispares, por favor. Por favor_."

Vega crept to the door. "_Todo será bien_," she whispered, not sure if she would be able to keep that promise. "_No se preocupe_."

"_Tengo miedo_." The woman's voice shook. "_Enfermera Jaime..._"

"_Soy policía. Mis amigos están aquí para ayudarnos. Quédate aquí. __Y estar en silencio_." At the woman's nod, Vega continued on.

She passed room 3C, where the nurse she'd passed right after separating from Wylie had indicated that Patient Tacoma was being held. The blinds were drawn tightly – as they had been when he or she was kept across the hall from her – and she could tell by the slight tilt to the door that it was locked and bolted shut. Patient Tacoma was safe – at least for now – but the gunman was close. And everyone but she or Wylie was locked up, dead, or unable to get out of their beds, much less fight back.

She got as far as the supply closet before the gunman's footsteps gave him away – he was just down the stairs, at the security desk. Wylie would be doing all he could to block the information, but with the key code from Shorty, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes to figure out that 3C was the answer.

Vega ducked into the corridor by the supply closet, peering around the corner. He was at the computer, typing madly, trying to override both the security system and Wylie's block. She had to, somehow, in the next two minutes and all by herself, figure out how to stop him.

At her angle, she didn't have a clear shot. And there was no way she could get across the hall to duck into the other corridor without him seeing. Her eyes fell on the two collapsed gurneys stacked on top of a rollaway dresser like the one that had been in her room for the first week when her gowns needed to be changed often.

She bent, put her hands on it, and pushed as hard as she could.

She, the desk, and the gurneys screeched out into the middle of the hallway, and Vega dove behind them just as the shots rang out. She lay on her back, holding her gun at the ready, waiting for the shooting to stop. There was silence. She jumped up, fired several rounds off before she caught the exact location of the shooter, and then ducked behind the gurneys again.

More shots rang out – one, two, three hit one gurneys and sent pieces of it flying. A shard of metal nicked Vega's ear as it flew past. One of the bars on the third gurney fell to the ground with a clank, the jagged, sharp metal rolling to a stop against Vega's knees. She popped up again, getting two more shots off – one of which may have hit the gunman in the shoulder – before he jumped up, faster than she'd anticipated, and from father to the left than she'd expected – and let off another round. He missed – at least mostly.

Her gun flew out of her hand, shrapnel flying.

Vega dove for cover.


	23. Chapter 23

**This fic is one month old today! Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far. Two chapters left after this one.**

* * *

There was a hissing noise, and Wylie leaped backward from the computer as it started to smoke. _Well, I don't know if this is what she meant by 'mess things up', but it's what we've got._ Darting out into the hallway, he heard gunshots in the distance. _Michelle._ He ran down the hall, not sure of what he would do should he find where she and the gunman were, but he couldn't stay in the office and wait. Coming around the corner, he slipped in a puddle of intravenous fluid and fell, his left shoulder getting soaked in Nurse Jaime's blood. He jumped up and kept running.

* * *

"A half an hour?" Lisbon said when Cho returned from talking to the bomb squad. "That's so much time."

"I know," Cho said. "They initially told me it'd be forty five. I told them they had thirty and they'd be wise to finish sooner."

"How did they get that bomb into the building without anyone seeing it?" Theo asked.

"Well they probably carried it in in three pieces," Fischer said. "And armed it when they got inside."

"It'd be safest for them as well as easiest," Lisbon said, "in case they encountered any resistance at the entrance."

"God," Theo said. "And Agent Wylie is in there."

"And Agent Vega," Cho said.

Theo cocked her head. "Agent Vega? Isn't that the name of the..."

"Yeah. There's been a development on that front."

Theo blinked. "Well...well that's good. I mean...providing..." looking flustered she ran her fingers through her hair. "I'll be over there."

"Is that Jane?" Fischer asked, pointing to a car that had parked about twenty five yards away.

"I called him," Cho said. "Figured if we get access to that place, we could use an extra set of eyes."

"Hey!" Lisbon called, waving Jane over. He jogged toward them, eyeing the FWTC as if he could get a reading of the gunmen based on the building.

He came to a stop next to her. "What's the news?" Noticing who was standing to his wife's right, he smiled and nodded. "Nice to see you, Kim."

"Likewise."

"No news," Lisbon said. "We've got the bomb squad looking to free the front door. Everything else appears to be barricaded from the inside, and we aren't sure with what. Should only take another half an hour or so, they say, before we can get inside." She swallowed hard, watching the building. She wasn't sure what she was expecting...smoke? It was a solid, secure looking building. Providing the bomb didn't go off, she'd have no way of knowing anything that was going on. Wylie and Vega could be hiding, or tied up, or fighting for their lives, or...

Her stomach fluttered again, and she grabbed Jane's hand, putting it on her stomach. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Maybe nothing, but just in case, you should feel this."

* * *

Vega lay on her back, wanting desperately to roll over, to shield the part of her that already knew what it was like to take a bullet, but wanting just as much to put an end to this, come what may. If she rolled over, she'd lose any advantage she might have.

She heard the heavy footsteps of the man as he ascended the stairs, and was suddenly terribly aware of the sweat that had broken out on her forehead. She had no gun. She wasn't in good physical condition. And _there was no time to run._

The gurneys were suddenly flying. The man, much larger than she'd realized, picked them up and tossed them away, his intent clear – terrorize her with his strength and ability to dominate the fight, and then kill her.

But Vega's intent was to live. As the man pushed the rollaway down the hall and stared down at the tiny woman lying on her back, her arm came out, reaching for the broken piece that was next to her, and swung it upward just as he pointed his gun down at her chest.

Metal met metal. The gun flew away from them and landed on the ramp. It went off.

Vega was on her feet, bringing the metal bar back the other way, this time lodging it in the stomach of the unbalanced man over her, pushing it as deeply as she could go.

He retaliated, his hands on the bar, whirling around and using his own momentum and the depth of the weapon in his gut to slam into her and knock her backward. She attempted to catch herself, tripped over one of the gurneys, pitched over it, and tumbled down the stairs.

She yelped in pain as she hit the floor, her front taking the impact and jarring her still sensitive abdomen. She lay on her stomach, gasping for breath, then rolled her upper body off the floor to look over her shoulder at the top of the stairs.

The gunman was lying on his back, completely still, the table leg sticking out of him. Blood began to drip its way down the stairs.

Exhausted, Vega let out a quick breath that mixed with a laugh of relief. She rolled back over onto her stomach, resting her forehead against the linoleum, sucking in deep breaths, feeling her heart begin to pound a little less.

"Michelle!"

She lifted her head again as Wylie appeared from father down the hall, running toward her. "Oh my God. Are you okay?"

She rolled over onto her back. "Yeah. Yeah I am." Her eyes widened at the blood soaked into his shirt near his left shoulder. He shook his head. "Not mine. You?"

Her bandages were damp; she'd likely strained her wound again in the fight, but she was too hyped up to be in pain and all the blood on her gown was from the killer. "I'm okay," she said. She reached her arm out. "Help me up?"

Wylie grabbed her hand and pulled her unsteadily to her feet. She wobbled, regaining her balance, and then threw her arms around him. "We did it."


	24. Chapter 24

**This is up a little later than planned, and for that I apologize. Stay tuned for the final chapter this Wednesday.**

* * *

"You okay?" Wylie asked as they walked toward the outer part of the building.

"Yeah," she said leaning her head against him. "I'm just tired."

"You really took that guy out," Wylie said. "You just rammed that table leg right into him."

"Well," she said, "I have a bit of personal experience with trauma to that area."

"That's not funny." He stopped, bending slightly and scooping her up.

"I'm not being funny," she said. "I was using personal experience to my advantage."

"Well, I stand corrected," he said.

She grinned, tipping her head to rest against his chest. "Where are we going?"

"Stop!"

Wylie obeyed out of surprise more than anything else, startled at seeing three armed, vested women standing in the hallway. "Are you Agents Wylie and Vega?" one asked.

* * *

Walking briskly with his team through the lobby of the FWTC, still irritated at not being allowed access first, Cho felt his face drain of color when the doors opened to reveal two officers flanking Wylie, who was carrying Vega. She was motionless, her head leaning against Wylie's chest. "Oh my God..."

At the sound of his voice, Vega's head tipped toward him and she grinned. "Cho! We did it, Cho!"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "God," he said walking toward them. Wylie stopped when Cho got in front of them, and the senior agent looked sternly down at Vega. "I think you have single handedly taken twenty years off my life."

She cleared her throat. "Sorry, sir."

Cho's face broke out in a smile, and he hugged Wylie, Vega sandwiched between them. Then Wylie eased her to the ground. Her eyes looked beyond Cho to the rest of the team. "Jane. Lisbon."

Lisbon came forward and hugged her. "I'm so glad you're alive," she said tearfully. She looked back at Jane as if to make sure he saw.

"Oh, me too," Vega said. "Oh! Congratulations, on, on everything."

"Thanks," Lisbon said. "Thanks."

Jane walked up and reached out his hand, squeezing hers. "Look at you," he said, looking almost proud, as if Vega was his own daughter. "Look...at...you." He grinned. "Good to see you, soldier."

"Can we get to a hospital?" Wylie said. He was met with a half dozen pairs of raised eyebrows. "I mean, one that isn't...in a state of disarray."

"Wylie hit his head," Vega said. "And I could use a couple stitches in my shoulder."

"Are you okay?" Lisbon asked, concerned.

Vega shrugged. "I_ have_ had worse."

* * *

Vega awoke to the sound of something hitting her window. Frowning, she sat up and peered outside. "Wylie?" She always smiled when he showed up, but today her grin was bigger than usual - she hadn't seen him in three days.

He grinned, dropping the last couple of pebbles he had in his hand. "They always did it in the movies," he said. "I thought I'd try."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a two story safe house, Wylie, you want to get shot?"

"I think my odds of surviving with Lisbon and Theo on patrol are pretty high."

"Theo is still here?"

"Well, until I got here."

"You're keeping her from her kid so you could throw stones at my window?"

"She gets it."

"Not exactly," Theo said, appearing next to Wylie. "As it is neither midnight nor your teenaged years. But I was raised to live and let live. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a child to pick up from after care."

Wylie cleared his throat. "I'll be right up."

"Kay." She grinned. Being in the safe house was nice – but just as it was less busy than the hospital was, it was also lonelier. It was four hours away from Austin, and although the team insisted on being her bodyguards for the next few days while the FWTC was recuperating, they didn't know how to act around her. Theo'd never met her before, and Lisbon was taking her job too seriously to really lighten up enough for Vega to enjoy her company. "We are _not _losing you again," she'd told Vega firmly. "I'm never letting my eyes stray from the cameras." Vega fully expected that Lisbon had kept that promise.

She heard the rapid footsteps that accompanied Wylie's ascension up the stairs, and she lit up when he appeared in the doorway. "Not okay," she told him. "Three days without seeing you?"

"I know," he said, walking over and giving her a hug as she stood up. "But on the positive, Cho thinks we've arrested the leader of the people who were sent to kill Patient Tacoma. And Jane thinks so too, so it's probably right."

"Ah, good," she said. Then she giggled. "Seriously what was with the rocks? Teenagers do that."

"I'm sorry I didn't know you when you were a teenager."

"Oh God," she said. "You would not have wanted to try that then."

"What," Wylie said, grinning, "Would your dad have totally kicked my ass?"

"_I _would have totally kicked your ass," she said, laughing. "It was up and at 'em at six a.m. every morning save Sundays. Any guy who disturbed my sleep would have been castrated."

Wylie laughed. "It's so good to see you," he said.

"You too." She bit her lip. "Wylie, on that subject..."

"What's wrong?"

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm getting my new assignment."

Wylie looked down at her, the light fading from his face. "Oh?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you have any idea where..."

"I'm hoping to stay in the U.S.," she said. "And I might, I mean, I wasn't a target, so...so no one is looking for me. But in reality, they could place me anywhere. Anywhere in the world."

"And when would you go?"

"In a week. Maybe ten days."

Wylie exhaled audibly, biting his lip. "I know we knew that this was going to happen, but..." He wiped his eyes. "But I love together."

Her eyes were damp too. "Me too. I, uh..." she put her hands on his neck. "I'm at this point because of you. The doctors and nurses...they're brilliant. But my morale was terrible for a while and if it wasn't for you..." she sniffed. "I might not have made it. Or...or at least not nearly as quickly. And I'm not going to say I owe you, because you'd just insist that I don't. But thank you anyway." She smiled. "I don't...I don't know where we'd be if all this hadn't happened, but I have loved every moment we've had together and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I see you again. Even if...even if it'll be a while. I'm not...I'm not asking you to wait, or to come with me, but I'm saying that you've become a part of me that I know I can't give up."

"I feel the same," Wylie said. "I lost you once. I barely handled it. I can't...I can't lose you again."

She sat down on the bed and tugged his hand, asking him to sit beside her. "I've had to leave people behind a lot in my life," she said. "We moved. All the time. Saying goodbye became something I did just as often as I said hello." She looked down. "I thought I was used to it."

"Hey," Wylie said. "Maybe they'll keep you in the U.S. Maybe they'll even let you stay in Texas. You never know."

She nodded, then looked at him again, her eyes slightly brighter. "Look at this." Standing, she pulled her shirt up, exposing her stomach.

Wylie raised his eyebrows. "No bandage."

"No bandage." She grinned. "Awful scar, but no bandage. Once I get these stitches out of my shoulder where that shrapnel hit it, I'm almost good as new."

"That's fantastic," Wylie said. "And..." he turned slightly pink at the chance that she might find his thoughts a cliché, "...that's a pretty rockin' war wound you got there." He smiled. "You know, a week or so after you were shot, we had a case involving a guy who claimed to be a psychic." She cocked her head. "And this guy," Wylie said. "He told me you were okay. That you weren't in pain, and that you didn't want me to be sad. I wanted to badly to believe him...and it turns out...he was right. Just not in the way he thought."

"Wylie?"

"Coming!" He called to Lisbon. Rising, he offered his arm to Vega. "Want to get some practice in on the stairs?"

She took his arm. "I would."


	25. Chapter 25

**And here it is, the last chapter. When I started writing this, I had no idea just how many people didn't like what the show decided to do to Michelle Vega, and how many people really loved her budding relationship with Wylie. Thank you to EVERYONE who has read and reviewed. I know this fic has helped me - a lot - in dealing with show canon, because I can pretend that this is actually what happened in the weeks following the finale. I hope it's helped some of you, too.**

**Happy Wega Wednesday.**

* * *

"You hanging in there, Wylie?" Jane asked from the couch.

Wylie turned from the computer. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, I know that today Vega gets her placement, and your body language suggests that you've been preoccupied with that."

Wylie shrugged. "I mean, I have, I guess."

"You remember the first two years Cho worked here?" Jane's eyes were closed, his hands folded over his chest.

Wylie thought back. "I mean, I was only here for six months before moving up to this department, and I didn't really see him but in passing..."

"Well," Jane said, "for two years before Lisbon and I started working here, I was in Central America, and she was in Washington State."

"Okay."

"There's nowhere in the world that Vega can go that she'll forget you," Jane told him. "At the risk of sounding like a cliché, love finds a way."

Wylie nodded slowly. "Thanks."

* * *

The moment Wylie entered the safe house living space, his eyes were searching Vega's for any clue as to where her assignment was. She was on the couch with Cho and Theo, looking solemn. Theo wouldn't make eye contact with Wylie. Cho was, as usual, impossible to read.

Vega got up to greet him, silently, taking both his hands. "Ford left about an hour ago."

"Where?" he asked.

She let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his chest. "Houston."

It took Wylie a moment. "...Houston?" He tipped his head down despite still not being able to see her face. "As in..."

She lifted her head, grinning. "Houston, Texas."

Wylie wanted to say something, but found it impossible to speak when grinning that broadly. So instead he laughed and threw his arms around Vega, lifting her off the ground and twirling. As they whirled around, he thought he caught a glimpse of Theo laughing and Cho offering her a high five.

"You guys terrified me," Wylie said as he set Vega down. She laughed, tipping her head back. "The _look_ on your face!"

"Wasn't difficult for me," Cho quipped. "There is a reason we didn't have Lisbon in on this, though."

"So what's the rest of the details on this new life of yours?" Wylie wanted to know.

"They've set me up with training to work as a polygraph administrator," she told him. "I'm actually going to be living in Humble, Texas, in the Houston Metropolitan area."

"Oh my God," Wylie said, still grinning. "That's...I still can't..._how_?"

"Well, turns out that one of the people on the FWTC Board of Placement was in FBI training with Abbott," Vega said. "I have no idea if he pulled any strings, but..." She smiled. "I guess the official answer is 'we got lucky'."

"Do you have a new name?" Wylie asked.

"_Me llamo_ Michelle Bonaventura," she said. "I'm twenty six years old, originally from Denton, Texas."

"_Bueno,_" Wylie said. "_Muy cerca_."

"Can I confess something?" she said, cocking her head.

Wylie was amused. "What?"

"I'm actually really excited to go, now. You know what I mean? Like...now I won't be sad. Now leaving full time care just means I'm getting better. And yeah, we'll be almost two hundred miles apart but..."

"We can stay together."

She smiled, nodding. "Yeah. _Yeah_."

"When do you go?"

"Friday."

Wylie looked over the top of her head at Cho. "You can have the day off," he said. "I'm sure you'll want to take her."

* * *

Friday morning, Lisbon and Wylie drove Vega to the FWTC for her final physical. Angela smiled as she signed the release papers. "Another success story," she said. "We are so thrilled to send you on to the next stage in your life, Michelle."

"Your new home is a small, three room house," she continued. "One bedroom, one bathroom. 709 square feet. It comes furnished. It should suit you for the time being."

"Thank you." Vega stood to shake Angela's hand. "Thank you for everything." It felt strange being in the FWTC again, even after only a week in the safe house, especially after all that had happened. "I hope you don't take this as disrespect," she said, and Angela smirked as if she already knew what the agent was going to say, "but I am very excited to never see this place again."

"I suppose this isn't really goodbye," Lisbon said. "I can't _imagine_ we won't be seeing you."

"I can't imagine that either," Vega said, accepting the older woman's hug. "I want to know your son or daughter."

Jane smiled. "We want them to know you, too."

Vega smiled, hugged Jane, and then hugged Cho. "You ready?" Wylie asked, closing the back door of the van.

Vega look in a deep breath, nodding. "Yep."

"Alright then," Wylie said, giving her a reassuring grin. "Let's go to Houston."

* * *

"Finally doing our Houston date," Vega joked as they maneuvered through the city. "Too bad League of Legends isn't in the cards."

"I'm so glad this isn't a date to, like...Belarus or something," Wylie said. "What with that being so far away and all."

"Yeah," she said. "Houston's much better." She reached across the cup holders and grabbed the hand he had resting on his leg. "You want to get some food?"

Wylie glanced at the time. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Let's try there," Vega said, pointing up ahead. "I like the buffalo painting in the window."

By the time they had eaten, the sun was beginning it descent. Fortunately, Vega's new home in Humble was not difficult to find. Before going inside, they carried all her bags to the porch. "Not too much stuff," Wylie said.

"You've been in my old house," Vega said. "I don't have lots of personal belongings." She fiddled with the key. "Here goes."

The door swung open to reveal most of Vega's new house. To the left was a tiny kitchen, with a round table and four chairs sitting just before the fridge, and to the right, with no wall in between, was the living room with two recliners, a coffee table, and a bookshelf. On the right side was a door leading to the bedroom.

"It's small," Vega said, dragging one of her bags inside. "But I don't need a mansion, now do I?"

"It's cozy," Wylie said. "Manageable. I like it."

"Yeah," Vega said. "Me too. I just wish it wasn't a hundred and sixty miles away."

"Two and a half hour drive," Wylie said. "It's better than being across the Atlantic. Where do you want these?"

"Just set them down anywhere," Vega said. "I'll unpack in the morning."

"Okay." Wylie looked around. "I think you'll be okay here."

"Yeah," she said. They walked into the bedroom, and she raised her eyebrows. "Simple," she said. "This is set up a lot like at the place I was renting in Austin." She looked at Wylie. "Maybe I'll put the photos on the dresser."

"He'd be proud of you," Wylie said. "I know I never knew him, but...I can't imagine that he'd be anything but."

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah. I think so. He would be." She shoved her hands in her pockets, looking at the bed, pushing the toe of her right shoe into the carpet. "Two and a half hour drive," she said. "That'll be getting you home well after midnight."

"It's alright," Wylie said.

"I was thinking," she said carefully, deliberately, "maybe you'd like to...to stay tonight?"

"Stay?" he said, looking unsure as to what she was saying.

"Yeah," she said. "Stay. I know I'd...I'd like that. If you did."

"Are you sure?" he asked her pointedly, telling her that he did understand. She nodded. "The doctors told me it was okay to try. If I felt up to it." She stood in front of him and took his hands. "And I do. I'd like to try." She turned pink, averting her eyes from his. "Especially with you looking at me like that, God Wylie." She grinned, then looked back up at him, her eyes hopeful.

"I'd love to stay with you," Wylie said, squeezing her hands. "You're absolutely sure, though?"

She nodded. "I am. I mean..." she trailed off. Westing had told her there might be discomfort at first. "You've had multiple extensive surgeries," he'd told her. "You've had no interest in years. If the interest returns, you _have_ recovered enough to try, but be careful." His words rang in Vega's head, but she had no idea how to transmit them to Wylie without sounding like tonight was going to be some medical experiment. She didn't want to do this out of curiosity, as some test as to if she was fully recovered. She wanted to do this because she was in love with Wylie.

"You'll call all the shots," Wylie told her, his tone reassuring, his thumbs rubbing the top of her hands. "Every single one, I promise."

Vega smiled, using their hands as a platform to balance on as she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. He kissed her back, lowering his head so she could stand flat footed, letting go of her hands to slide his up to push through her hair. She tugged on his shirt, asking him to move with her, and he walked forward, stopping when the back of her legs made contact with the side of the bed. She stretched upward again, back on her tiptoes, sliding her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. He pushed against her mouth, and she deepened the kiss as he curled his arms around her waist to hold her in place.

Then he pulled back just slightly to gaze down into her eyes, their noses almost touching. "I love you," he said. "A lot."

* * *

_We are, we are, we are timeless, timeless. Everything we have, we have, everything, oh my god. You are, you are the only thing that makes me feel like I can live forever. Forever with you, my love._


End file.
